Hurt or be hurt: The 203rd Hunger Games
by ToxicatedRose
Summary: Last year the Games were historical - phenomenal. This year the Gamemakers are going to step the Games up and throw in a twist nobody expected. Friendships will be formed, hearts will be broken, but only one can ultimately survive.
1. The Beginning

**Tobias Harte, Head Gamemaker:**

* * *

Last year's Games had been successful enough to keep me out of the President's bad books - there had been drama, angst, love, betrayal, loss and death, a lot of death. This year was going to be the same; I had spent another year sketching out another big arena complete with mutts and traps, and the audience were going to love it.

After another year of designing and planning I was finally back in the Gamemaker's little lab of horrors. Aside me was Ruth, her stony face contorted into a frown whilst she lectured a worried Dr. Carter, our recent environmentalist. Sighing, I moved over to her swiftly whilst grinning optimistically.

"No time for nagging," I smirked and grabbed onto Ruth's shoulders before whisking her out into the corridor and smiling. "These Games are going to be better than ever."

Ruth was my deputy. She always added the more conventional yet necessary details to my more flamboyant and unique arenas, and I appreciated it - we were like Bonnie and Clyde, only more legal and and without the killing... Without the direct killing.

"You say that every year," Ruth said indifferently. "And the President has requested a forest arena - not one of your eccentric pyramid, haunted mansion or medieval village ones."

"You know me Ruth," I beamed. "I'll listen to the President but that won't stop be from putting in my own twist - I'm even discussing one with Natalya."

"Natalya?" Ruth asked, shocked.

"Yes, me." A dark voice smirked. I managed to catch a mane of dark hair and the prominent pearly canines of Natalya's teeth whilst she observed me and Ruth in a predator like fashion. "Ruth, on Royal orders I command you leave - And you, Tobias, will follow me."

Royal orders. That was why I detested Natalya - she may of had the title of the 'Princess of Panem' but she used it to her advantage a couple of times too many.

I unwillingly tailed after her whilst Ruth stayed behind, looking insulted. Being alone with the President's bloodthirsty, spoilt daughter was never a good thing. We moved into an elevator which lowered us down a shaft that moved us down to the building's basement so quickly my stomach felt as if it had disappeared.

"So here is the ultimate twist," Natalya grinned, pointing at a skeletal figure curled up in the corner of the basement. "Last year's victor - Rayann Carter of District Five."

"She... She should be dead." I muttered, looking at the girl who had acknowledged us, though she didn't have the strength to speak. She had a pretty face from last year's plastic surgery, but her dirty and dishevelled image was unappealing to say the least.

"We lied," Natalya spat. "We had to get rid of her for belittling the Capitol. Executions were much too public, so we're sending her back in the arena as a 'twist'"

"This twist is too spon-" I started, but Natalya cut me off.

"On the President's orders." She grinned. "It's the only way we can finish her off - she will be sent into the arena and any tribute that kills her will automatically be announced as victor."

"Oh... Okay." I muttered.

How did I feel about this? I loved my Games twists but this girl had turned into a bony wreck on the stone floor. Still, it would make for good entertainment. I cast one more look and Natalya cackled as we stepped into the elevator.

"Oh, and we'll be sending her mother and best friend in too."

And the hurt began.

* * *

**Welcome to 'Hurt or be hurt' - it is an SYOT, and a closed one at that.**

**It is the sequel to my other fic 'Kill or be killed' - if you haven't done so, it would be best if you read it to get a grasp of my alternate universe.**

**There will be no sponsoring system, as I like having complete control over my stories - However you'll find that if you review regularly your character will have a less bumpy ride (hint hint). The first chapter will hopefully be up by Saturday, and I'll update regularly from there.**

**That's all for now - once I recieve all my tributes the Games shall begin, I plan to do two POV's per chapter and there will be twelve chapters in all before the Games, and then a chapter with a brief point of view from every tribute before the gruesome bloodbath-**

**And then the drama truly starts...**

* * *

Tribute list:

**District 1:**

Male: Luster Harbetto, 18.

Female: Astrid Evans, 18.

**District 2:**

Male: Archimedes Plutus, 17.

Female: Melanthe Hathaway, 17.

**District 3:**

Male: Karble Ive, 18.

Female: Danielle Wright, 16.

**District 4:**

Male: Blaine Odesius, 18.

Female: Naomi Lee, 16.

**District 5:**

Male: Callis Ray Carson, 15.

Female: Avalynn Hiebler, 17.

**District 6:**

Male: Holden Gray, 14.

Female: Aibileen Karpis, 16.

**District 7:**

Male: Sperren Prazna, 18.

Female: Veronica Vesna, 17.

**District 8:**

Male: Micah Miraude, 17.

Female: Tarren Keenan, 15.

**District 9:**

Male: Cardinal Volke, 16.

Female: Elise McElroy, 13.

**District 10:**

Male: Leonardo Brydon, 16.

Female: Helen Aspen, 14.

**District 11:**

Male: Broson Gray, 17.

Female: Petunia Hines, 16.

**District 12:**

Male: Vigil Hatzardys, 18.

Female: Reed Ardice, 17.


	2. The Reaping

**Reed Ardice, District 12, 17:**

* * *

It was kind of nice being perched up in a large tree whilst glancing at a green sky of leaves surrounding me. There was total silence and tranquility disregarding a choir of birds singing; I could hear them so clearly, even managing to differenciate all the different birds... Swallows, blue tits, mockingjays...

"Reed? Where are you?" A deep voice called, making the whole forest freeze as an intruder entered.

"Aaron, you idiot," I called down to my best friend who was below me. "Call out in a forest which is illegal to be in, why don't you?"

Aaron paused as I jumped off the branch, and though the tree was pretty high the landing wasn't fatal. My ankles throbbed a little at the impact, but I bit back the pain - I wasn't one of those girls who cried at silly little things like falling, usually I didn't cry in at all.

"You were the one that suggested we came here after your father hunted here," Aaron said whilst glancing down at me. There was a bit of a height difference between my friend and I - Aaron was well over six foot, whereas I barely scraped five foot myself.

"I just thought it was desolate and quiet," I told him, glancing around trees and taking in the emptiness of the area whilst remembering my father's hunts. Not that I hunted, because seeing my father kill animals put me off eating meat in general, never mind hunting for it! The reaping day kind of reminded me of the way my dad hunted for fun, that's what the Hunger Games were - one big human hunt, some kind of bloodsport. Not that I gave a crap about them.

"Yeah, it's nice and quiet," Aaron said, letting the silence wash over again. "You do know it's reaping day today, right?"

"Yeah, what do I care?" I snorted, tucking some of my light brown hair behind my ear.

"You hardly look presentable."

I laughed and then glared at my friend - I couldn't care any less about presentability, it kind of annoyed me how people always tried looking good unless it was a beauty competition or something, then I'd understand totally, but the Hunger Games was just one giant fight. I loved trying to bring out the best in myself and playing (and winning) games, but the Hunger Games were something I wouldn't want to compete in.

"What time is the reaping?"

"It's about two o' clock, I think," I muttered, and the thought of having to listen to a droopy history lecture and then watching sobbing children really bored me. Same old boring process, same old boring Hunger Games. "I have a feeling this year's going to be like any other year."

"S'pose so," Aaron muttered, and through his casualness I knew that he was worrying about being picked. I wasn't worried at all.

"Just think Aaron," I grinned and strode through the forest, smiling at the thought of no more reapings. "After this year we'll have next year, and then we won't have to care about the reaping at all!"

"It's not as easy as that," Aaron replied, trailing behind me. "We have younger sisters and brothers, friends and children..."

That made me think for a second. Though I had a pretty good feeling I'd live through the reapings that didn't make me one hundred percent safe - I mean, I still had this year and next year to be reaped despite how unlikely it was. I had a little sister, and there was the chance she'd be reaped... I wanted children in the future, and there was a chance that they'd be reaped...

"You're just being miserable," I frowned.

"Why, Weed?" Aaron laughed at my nickname, because he knew how much it bugged me. "Aren't you the miserable one out of us?"

"Do not call me weed," I said, punching Aaron in the gut, almost casually. "And I am not miserable!"

"Of course you are," Aaron chuckled, rubbing his stomach indifferently. He was pretty strong, so my punches didn't hurt him that much, but that didn't make me back down. "And you're small too."

"And your point is?" I growled as we walked out of the forest into a field. As a small procedure I looked out for Peacekeepers before venturing back into District Twelve.

"Well, it makes you quite cute when you get feisty," Aaron said matter of factly. I crawled under the broken fence that seperated our District from the wild and rolled my eyes.

"So what if I'm small, are you trying to make a point?" I wasn't insecure about my height, but even I wished I sprouted up a couple of inches so that people took me seriously when I told them I was going to sock them.

"You're a little cutie," Aaron teased once he crawled under the fence. He actually gasped in pain when I slugged him with force.

I strode towards the seam area of District Twelve with a smirk on my face. "At least I can look like a cutie and not a big, blundering giant."

"Hey! You know that women like a nice, tall man."

We both continued bantering as we strolled through the Seam to get back home, and the conversation was enough to make me avoid eye contact with the half-dead coal workers of District Twelve. Seeing their soot stained skin and their constantly dead grey eyes always unnerved me and made me know how lucky I was.

Both Aaron and I lived in the town centre of District Twelve, so though we lived in the slummiest District our families got on pretty well. Aaron waved me goodbye as he went home and I eventually got in my own home to prepare myself for the reaping-

"Hello pipsqueak," my dad had an old gun in his hands and knives in his belt. I was kind of annoyed that he was going on one of his bloody hunts again, but I kept casual. My dad was a bit of a demanding man and he kind of hoped that I could kill animals senselessly too, but despite our differences we were very close.

"Hey," I said as he made his way out the door before shouting my goodbyes to him. "Just so you know, the place is teeming with critters!"

He smiled at me one last time with a mischievous sparkle in his eye before he walked out of sight. Our family didn't really worry during the reapings because we acknowledged that the odds were one in thousands. With that reassuring thought in my head I moved up the stairs to 'present' myself.

"Oh mummy, I'm really scared about getting reaped," my little sister, Kee, whined as my mother fitted her into a pretty white dress. Kee was my literal opposite; paranoid and girly.

"Well that's likely," I smirked sarcastically. Kee didn't say anything, probably to avoid some kind of confrontation.

My mother had different ideas. She glanced at me disapprovingly. "Reed - it's the reapings, you better get a bath."

My mother was as fierce as me, so arguing with her really wasn't worth it. With slight annoyance I muttered snide comments behind her back. As usual we were deprived of hot water, and though the tub was freezing it was nice to scrub the dirt off my skin and hair with a precious bar of soap.

Once I was out of the bathroom my mother assaulted me and forced me into a innocent knee length white dress which I hated.

"You look so dainty and feminine," she sighed as she dragged a comb through my damp hair. Whilst most girls would've taken that as a compliment I really wanted to vomit.

"Am I done yet?" I grumbled once she finished to admire my plain face.

"Oh yes," she said, glancing at a clock on the wall. "One thirty now - Okay, time to go to the reaping!"

"Where's dad?" I asked. If there was the unlikely occurrence of me getting reaped I'd of liked him to be there.

"Hunting as usual," my mother sighed. "I hate it when he goes back to that forest... But don't worry Reed, he knows you'll make it back before dinner."

We all walked out into the corridor, finally ready to go off to the public slaughtering, but before I could rush down the stairs my older brother Ranger stopped me and handed me a knife with a sly grin on his face.

"One throw before we go, just for luck?" He said, pointing at the dartboard whilst mum and Kee walked out of the house. We had lost all of our darts and replacements were too expensive to buy, so we used knives instead. I was the best in the family, but I always was the best at something I put effort into.

Rolling my eyes I snagged the knife from Ranger's hand and glanced to the dartboard, and with one swift hand movement the knife was in the centre of the dartboard.

"Wa-hey, look at you!" Ranger teased before leading me down the stairs.

"What can I say," I smirked, though inside I knew that it was good luck made that knife go into the centre. "I am pretty much the perfect human being."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughed. Ranger and I both moved towards the town centre, laughing and joking. Though I loved my siblings equally Ranger was always the one I got on with more, though he was ridiculously protective over me - and that had its repercussions, especially with my love life.

Once we got to the town square Ranger moved aside to help my mother convince Kee to let out some blood and sign in. I didn't make a fuss of the slight stinging pain and once I was done I immediately moved towards the seventeens section.

I managed to find my friend, Tulia, in the ocean of girls. Tulia was my age and she was one of my second best friend (Aaron coming first, of course). She was quite sweet, smiley and she always let people have their way - that automatically made her nice in my books.

"Hey Reed," she greeted me. Her voice was higher than usual, probably because she was nervous about being reaped.

"Hey," I said nonchalantly.

There wasn't a single word said between us as the stupid was read - usually we had quite a bit of a gossiping session but at that moment in time I knew that she was too worried for any trivial conversation. The escort made her way onto the stage just as I squeezed Tulia's hand reassuringly, just to let her know that everything was going to be fine.

Our escort, Lillian McNicks, wasn't as made up or stupid as the other escorts but her wide puffy pink dress was still quite ridiculous, her skin had been dyed white in an attempt to make her skin look fair and she still had that annoying Capitolian accent.

"Good afternoon District Twelve," she spoke to us like we were a group of naughty children in an assembly hall, before getting straight to the point. "I am going to select the name of one man and woman to fight to the death and represent this District for the two hundred and third Hunger Games."

"She's straight to the point, I admire that," Tulia muttered whilst smiling at me. "Kind of like you."

I returned Tulia's smile and my gaze went back to the escort who had moved towards the ball full of girls names, she looked up sternly before saying:

"Ladies first... I'm not one to break tradition."

I managed to see Aaron on the other side of the square in the boy's seventeen section. He glanced at me worriedly as Lillian fished her hand through the bowl but I smirk cheekily back, just to let him know that I was okay.

"Reed Ardice!"

The shock managed to flow through me and I felt paralysed, kind of like a rabbit in the headlights, out of all the names why was mine picked? So many kids had put in tesserae but my name was read out... The odds were so slim. I was so confident that I was safe.

I definitely was not okay.

I could see Aaron's lips mouth 'no' but I tried to ignore him, so I walked past a shocked looking Tulia who had moved aside and I moved towards the stage confidently, no this time Aaron wasn't mouthing - he was shouting.

"No..." And then his voice turned hysterical. "No! No! Don't take her, just don't take her!"

I cursed Aaron under my breath for making small tears form in my eyes, but I smirked as if the whole process was going to be easy - like some fun competition - but deep inside I knew that wasn't the case. I moved up onto the stage and Lillian shook my hand firmly.

"Good girl," she said, but I could tell she felt sorry for me as her wide, sad eyes lingered onto me for a second. Straight after she turned giggly and bubbly again as she turned around with me so that she could show me off. "Now for our boy."

Her high heels clacked as she moved across the stage towards the bowl with all the boys names in them and though I was a firm atheist I closed my eyes and prayed that Aaron wasn't idiotic enough to volunteer and protect me. If he dared go into these Games and risk his life to get me home...

"Vigil Hatzardys..." Lillian spoke into the microphone. Vigil didn't get as much of a reaction as I did, but soon a suave looking older man moved himself to the stage, and he actually shook the escorts hand.

If he wanted to seem confident so be it, he was competition - that was enough for me.

"Thank you dear, but I prefer to be known professionally as Mr Hatzardys..."

The escort smiled weakly and inside something made me really, really pissed off. I was expecting my competition to be some half dead child from the Seam but instead I was faced with a cocksure eighteen year old who looked a bit like Sherlock Holmes or something - fitting, because I remembered my brother telling me about a certain Mr Hatzardys who was rummaging in our dustbins the other day.

"District Twelve, I present you with your tributes: Reed Ardice and... Erm... Mr Hatzardys."

Though inside I felt half dead from the shock there was a bittersweet taste of relief; Aaron was not going into the Games and he wasn't going to die for me.

Before we went into the Justice Building Vigil actually had the nerve to come over and shake my hand. I tried to bite back a comment but I observed everything about him - his hair that was so light and wispy it appeared grey, his intriguing eyes, his permanent grin and most of all the scar on his cheek.

How did Mr Hatzardys get that then? Hopefully the story behind scar was nowhere as threatening as it looked.

* * *

**Luster Harbetto, District 1, 18:**

I watched as a knife hit the centre of another target in a matter of milliseconds. After training relentlessly since I was nine knife throwing had become as easy as breathing, all it took was a flick of the wrist and little thought so the knife would hit its target. There was another pause and I span around and lashed enough blade at a moving dummy so quickly there was a flash of silver light and then the dummy's head rolled to the ground.

If that was a moving person they'd be dead.

I wasn't too fond of Career training but from a young age my father kind of got me into it, mainly because he was a reject Career throughout the course of his adolescence, so he vented his failure out on me and now I was finally going to make him happy.

Since I was eighteen this was my final reaping - and I had reasons to suspect that the only way to make my father content with my training was volunteering for the Games. Not that I got any thrill from killing people, I was kind of indifferent to the Games... They just kind of existed as a background thing to me.

And I'd be going into them. I'd be playing the wretched game that many of my ancestors had played before so I was expected to win. Losing would mean death, never functioning at all, just existing as a rotting corpse in a coffin... No family to return to. But winning meant a lifetime of wealth and fame, having the power to live independently to do what I wished with my father's approval.

Either way I knew that today was going to change my life forever - today I was actually going off to the Capitol to fight.

After a couple more minutes of practicing with darts and a crossbow (mainly because ranged weapons were my expertise) I decided to just to go home and ready myself for the reapings, I had trained for nine years to my full extent and now it was time to put those years of training into use.

Without further ado I moved away from the training centre, deliberately avoiding eye contact with any of the other training Careers. I wasn't fond of many of the people here, mainly because they were arrogant brutes - even if they were nice they'd probably think that I was the black sheep of the Careers.

The Careers had always thought I was unsociable, but unbeknownst to them I had a minor form of autism. I hated to follow the stereotype, but I was the least likely person in our group that would be called 'sociable.'

Once I had collected my brown leather satchel that I always had with me I ambled out into the bustling streets of District One. The sun was shining as it always did on reaping day and the crowds were full of excited people - unlike the lower Districts no parents were worrying about their children being reaped.

"I'm totally hoping that Lindsey Youngman is the first to volunteer," some blonde girl said - like a majority of District One she looked like a glamour model.

"She better not," a petite girl who had obviously had some kind of operation of her lips done snorted. "I plan to volunteer this year... I mean, I am totally great with a bow and arrow."

"Can it Bleu, you can't even hit the bullseye, that's trash."

I didn't care who the District One female was; I'd worry about bloodthirsty opponents once I got into the arena, but for now I had to focus on raising my hand first to volunteer because District One was 'first come, first serve.'

Soon I was outside of my home I looked up at the white villa which was situated by the quasi-industrialised beach not far away. My family were rich due to our long line of Victors who had passed on their inheritance. Even then some of our cousins were recent victors, albeit dead ones thanks to the Quarter Quell.

"Is anyone in?" I shouted into the empty hallway, though I was only greeted by my own echo. Since I had an hour or so to kill I decided to play the grand piano that was situated in my living room.

I loved playing the piano more than anything and I had even thought about being a composer so that others could appreciate the music, it just gave me a time to think and relax whilst my fingers moved gracefully across the black and white keys, every time I played I admired the way the different notes - both high and low - harmonised into one beautiful melody.

I was in the middle of improvising an uplifting yet delicate piece when a voice snapped me out of the musical trance I had drifted into.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for the Reaping?"

I caught a glimpse of my mother's short blonde hair as she strolled into the room with a glass of wine in her hands. She didn't usually drink, but she allowed herself a bit on reaping day to calm the nerves. She had spent years running a successful bakery and ensuring that all of our stability didn't rely on inheritance, so I definitely thought she deserved a treat.

"It's a while away," I muttered, closing the lid of the piano and sighing.

"Is your girlfriend going to volunteer?" My mother asked sweetly, taking a small sip of wine. Though I wasn't good with people I genuinely did get on with my mother and I appreciated how she loved me unconditionally.

"I don't have a girlfriend," I muttered. "I'm not into girls."

"Oh yes speaking to girls must be hard because of your condition..." My mother was blabbing now, probably because she was slightly intoxicated. I tried to stop myself from saying something nasty - I hated how my autism was constantly called a condition.

"I'm just not into girls."

My parents thought that I was telling some kind of joke, like I had a reason to lie about my sexuality because of my autism, but I actually was gay. I wasn't one of those people who flaunted it, and it didn't define who I was, but it was a truth I had accepted about myself a long time ago.

"Oh Luke, you're so grown up." My mother looked at me proudly, calling me by a nickname she had found in a book of Pre-Panem names, supposedly related to something of an ancient science fiction film. I much preferred it to my actual name - 'Luster' sounded too flamboyant for my liking, especially when it was paired with 'Titanium' for a middle name.

"Love you," I muttered to her, though I was probably so quiet she couldn't hear me. My mother had to choose this day of all days to be remarkably affectionate, and the thought of volunteering for the Hunger Games and taking myself away from her made me guilty.

Once I was upstairs I started running a warm bath so that I could prepare myself for the reapings. Apparently cleanliness was next to godliness, and if I wanted to go into the Hunger Games I wanted to make a good first impression.

Though when I glanced in the mirror I knew that the shallow sponsors would probably go for the tributes in District Two or Four, because they'd probably be better looking than me. My facial features were rather plain, and I was never really desired - especially when District One had such a pulchritudinous gene pool.

After bathing and scrubbing off any dirt I moved into my bedroom which was located in the highest point of my bedroom. My room was cluttered with all sorts of things that I fawned over: on the wall was a dartboard that I used for throwing practice, a couple of world maps and other things and calculus textbooks littered the floor.

Even though there were all the complaining teenagers that hated it I was quite fond of mathematics; whenever I got bored of throwing knives or learning how to wrestle it was nice to just sit down and let my logic do the fighting.

I barely spent any time finding out what clothes I was going to wear - a t-shirt and jeans was good enough, despite my mother laying out stupid dress clothes for me. When I found out that there was only half an hour until the Reaping I stormed downstairs.

"Mum, dad, we need to go!" I shouted into the living room. As usual they were cuddling and holding hands; my parents always had a happy marriage, maybe they adored each other so much through all the family hard-ships that had to face - my victor infested family hardly approved of my mother because she didn't like the whole concept of training to kill.

"You sound enthusiastic," my father grumbled. "Not planning to volunteer are you?"

His voice wavered when he asked the question. He obviously wanted me to volunteer - typical. I had never gotten on with my father... He had never taken my condition seriously and he even teased me about it sometimes.

I kind of figured I was just another potential victor in the family for him, which was a grim thought. The night earlier I had heard him actually crying in his sleep, probably because he wanted me to volunteer. That's what finally pushed me to make a life changing decision-

"Of course he isn't," my mother said sternly. "He isn't like your family Titanium - he knows how silly volunteering is."

As we walked out of the door her words made my stomach tie itself into a knot, though I only smiled at her as we walked to the town centre. The procedure seemed the same, signing in and going into a large crowd of the same boys.

For once I wished that I had a friend with me the reassure me that everything was going to be okay. I actually did have a friend once called Lisa, whom I had been friends with from a very early age. She was the only person who listened to me and she put up with some of my nasty habits, but a couple of years ago she had been legally allowed to move to the Capitol after some of her dads diamond encrusted clothes were demanded there. I guess I missed her, but we did get to speak on the phone and catch up whenever the District had been supplied with electricity. I supposed even if she lived here she'd still be separated into the girls section.

And the Games would be too risky for her. What if she lived here and her name was picked whilst no-one volunteered? It was best if she stayed in the Capitol where the Hunger Games were only fun and games.

I clung onto my satchel and played with the buckle for a couple of seconds - it was my coping mechanism, and I really hoped that I could bring it to the Capitol because I knew I'd need something to help me cope.

Whilst I was thinking Mayor Trug was reading out the treaty of treason, his voice hollow and his eyes dead, probably because he lost his daughter last year. I never really listened to the treaty of treason, it had remained the same treaty for two hundred and three years and it probably wasn't going to change. Once he was done he stepped aside gloomy and the escort took the stage.

Leena Prinz was an arrogant girl with a petite frame and an angel face, though when she looked out at the crowd she seemed like a hungry lion looking out for its food. She had a reputation for having strong Career tributes and I wasn't going to break that reputation for her.

"Good day District One!" She giggled in a stiffly formal manner. "Shall we proceed to pick out our tributes? I have a feeling we have some winners this year!"

Since she was escorting a District full of Careers, that made sense - but she had been wrong the past few years in a row. The mayor glanced at her sadly, but she returned the glance with a frown.

"Okay, how about our women?" She grinned and moved towards the ladies reaping bowl, and she carefully dipped her hand into the bowl with a smirk. "Oh... Let me just rest my hand on the piece of paper that I think has a winner's name written on it!"

That would've been pointless seeing as there would be a volunteer charging up anyway.

Leena giggled as she held out the slip of paper. "Okay can Miss Topaz Whiteheart please make her way to the-"

"I volunteer!"

A perfectly manicured hand poked its way out of the crowd of eighteen year old girls and I saw a couple of them groan and put their half lifted hands down - they wouldn't be competing this year, though that was probably a good thing for them. I glanced to the stage as a petite girl with wavy strawberry blonde hair and quite a big nose strutted on - not that how she looked mattered, but her eyes were narrowed in determination.

Leena was standing on the balls of her feet with excitement. "Oh goodie! What's your name darling?"

"Astrid Evans," the girl smirked and turned to the audience. "My father made sure that my surname was noticed - and you'll all know it further when I win!"

I knew Astrid, of course, she was a Career - rich dad, spoilt, envious of girls more attractive to her and pretty deadly with knives. Her ranged skills were good though her accuracy was weak compared to mine and if I fought her in a melee battle I'd be a goner.

"Okay," Leena moved to the boys bowl and just grabbed a piece of paper. She was probably fed up because she didn't want to pick out a boy who probably wouldn't be reaped. I readied my arm as she unravelled the paper. "Can I please have Zandar-"

"I volunteer!" I shouted so loudly my voice hurt. All the others boys looked at me, probably to have a glimpse at the tribute or to glare at the boy who stole their place in the Games. All of a sudden I realised that my life had changed forever, but my weak knees carried me onto the stage anyway.

"Ladies and Gentlemen we get your beautiful District One tributes!"

I looked out into the audience to see my proud father beaming at me but my eyes met a different sight. My mother was clutching onto my father's chest, her sobs blocked out by the cheering crowd. And there were subtle tears shining in my dad's eyes... After all those years of him wanting me to fight he seemed so upset...

When he was crying a bit last night was he crying out of fear that I wouldn't volunteer, or was he crying because he knew I would and that terrified him to the core? All I knew was that I had made a big mistake, and I had to fight to come out of it alive.

* * *

**First chapter!**

**Well the reapings will be boring to write - so I'm doing one more chapter of them and then I'm moving on :)**

**So yeah, what do you think of these tributes? I'm in love with the both of them, so big thanks to PoeTayToe and Hutsune :)**

**_~Toxic_**

**_Okay, this is where I'll spice things up for fun; each chapter will have a 'Capitol Commentator question' - a question where you answer a question about the Games, and there'll also be a 'Interview Question' - and just like an interviewer I'll ask you more light, fun questions about yourself (not too personal though for obvious reasons)._**

_Capitol Commentator Question: What do you think of the tributes?_

Interview Question: How would you react if your name was to be called out at the reaping?


	3. The Chosen

**Broson Gray, District 11, 17:**

The boy looked up at my friends and I while a bunch of grapes that he had stolen rested in his hands. With a smirk I grabbed him by the shoulders so that he was forced up and my eyes glared into his.

"So, why did you steal these?"

"I-I was hungry," he whimpered, his voice squeaky and high pitched. "I'm s-sorry."

"Sorry?" I raised an eyebrow and my friends all guffawed in sync behind me. My friends and I had a tendency to seek out children that were breaking the rules of the District. "My father has worked hard to provide workers to make this food, to sell, to make my family money and you nibble away at the produce he helped create?"

My father was the mayor of the District, and I loved it. Though most of the children in District Eleven were little peasants who had dark skin from the sun they were forced under, I was born into a richer family - and I preferred it that way. My father always advised me to use my wealth and power to my advantage, and I did that well.

Some people liked to say that I was 'spoilt' just because my father had climbed up the social ladder to get the power and wealth he had, but I'd prefer the word 'lucky' - that's just who I was, mister lucky; everything went my way, and if it didn't I liked to make sure it did myself, because I wasn't afraid to take matters into my own hands.

"I'm sorry," he looked at me with wide brown eyes, probably hoping that I'd forgive him. My friends all chuckled again, and for the millionth time I got a great rush from exerting my power over the weaker children.

"Sorry doesn't make it any better - I think I'll have to tell my father," I said the same old blackmail threat that I used every day and watched as the boy's eyes widened even more. "I wonder what punishment he'll give you... Maybe he'll take away your pay with a month, or whip you until your back is a bleeding shred of skin."

One of my friends behind me continued the threats. "And stealing is punishable by death, you know."

The boy squealed and I was half tempted to roll my eyes. Obviously I wouldn't sentence the kid to death, I wasn't that extreme - that was something that a psychopath would do.

Before my brute 'friends' continued with the threats I hushed them.

"Luckily for you we're charitable and we'll take justice into our own hands," I laughed, and my curled up fist quickly slammed into his stomach. Within a split second the boy dropped to the floor, spluttering and wheezing.

I'd had enough. Beating up people was only fun for a short time, and I didn't want to continue the violence - I wasn't afraid of beating people up, seeing as I was six foot and muscular, but my brute friends were more into battering children to a pulp than I was, I just preferred scaring them with my position.

"You can deal with him," I told my friends and with my permission they leapt on the young boy like wolves did on an antler. I looked at the chaos one more time before turning and heading home, ignoring the boy's pained cries.

District Eleven was full of poverty - any fool could see that. Even now as I strolled through orchards I could catch glimpses of children as young as eight perched up in the trees, grabbing at berries. From what I knew well over half of the District's children couldn't even afford going to school. That was one of those luxuries that I enjoyed, but thankfully I was off because of reaping day.

Not that I'd be chosen anyway - the children who were creeping around the trees or growing and reaping crops were the ones who had taken in so much tesserae; hundreds of their names were lying in that glass bowl, whereas my name was in there six times. Unlike them I had a very slim chance of getting reaped.

I opened the door to my large house and entered it with a beaming face. "Dad, where are you?"

"He's out," my mother called from the kitchen. I strolled in to see her frying some bacon and eggs in a pan before her blue eyes met mine.

"Hey mum," I smiled at her. My mother wasn't like my dad - she wasn't powerful, if anything she was only remarkably beautiful, with her curly auburn hair and killing smile. I kind of suspected that he only liked how she looked, but I always knew what my mother was truly like and I loved her for it.

"Want some bacon? It used to be a reaping tradition in my family, and it would be nice to have some kind of tradition..." She paused and flipped the bacon over with her spatula. "It would be nice if there was something traditional in our family..."

Our family had all the power and wealth, but I supposed there was something I did envy the poorer kids for: unity. My mother and I were very close, and I had a good relationship with my father too, but there was definitely no true unity to the family's relationship. No family days out, no family meals or dinners, even hugs were rare - and it was common knowledge in the District that my mother and father had a rusty marriage, rumour even had it that he was having numerous affairs...

Things like that stung me.

"Why would bacon be a special tradition?" I snorted as my mother started buttering a bit of bread. "It's not like we don't have any of the stuff."

That was true - my family did always have meat, a lot more than the average family. When you lived in a District which had a sole focus in agriculture not many people managed to afford meat, which was a delicacy.

"I don't know, you think of something," my mother scraped two pieces of bacon, one egg and a slice of buttered bread onto the plate. "Do you want some or not?"

"Of course," I moved over and grabbed the plate which had an undeniably amazing smell that drifted into my sinuses. "Smells pretty good."

"Nothing but the best for my baby boy," my mother smiled and ruffled my hair, which had the same auburn tint she had. "I love you, you know."

"Love you too," I said carelessly as I moved onto the new breakfast table my father had bought.

"No... I mean, I'm just scared," my mother look at me seriously. "I mean it's the reaping and well..."

"Do you really think I'm going to go into the Games?" I smirked through a mouthful of bacon. "I mean there are kids with way more slips of paper in there-"

That was a sad fact of live I was accustomed to - the gods threw the dice in my favour, I didn't have to worry. I mean people always told me to appreciate my wealth but it was barely my fault I was fortunate - I had no reason to feel sorry for the kids who were born into poverty, that was weird and stupid.

"That doesn't matter though does it?" My mother sounded angry as she collected spare plates around the room. "Your name is still in that reaping bowl... You could still get chosen, even if your name is in there once." Suddenly her voice was choked, as if she were crying. "I don't want to lose you Broson... I don't care about all this pointless money and bacon... If I lost you..."

I stood up and rushed over to my crying mother whilst she wiped her teary eyes. I was kind of awful at the whole comforting thing, but if anyone deserved my sympathy it was my mother. I knew I wasn't going into the Hunger Games and even if I did I wouldn't definitely die - I was strong, and strong people won a lot I supposed...

"Don't be stupid," I smiled as I patted her back warmly, though she still clung onto my arms. "I'm not going to go."

"If you do, you know I love you?" My mother's whispers were hushed by the shirt she had buried her head in.

Before I could answer a tall, muscular man swept into the room and grabbed a plate of bacon. My father smiled weakly at me, though he didn't give my mother a second glance - she was only a reputation booster for him, and that annoyed me.

"Why aren't you ready for the reaping Broson?" My father muttered drearily as he buried his head behind a newspaper.

"We were having breakfast, Bryson," my mother's tone was as cold as her marriage. "I suppose you'll be reading out the treaty of treason today?"

"Yeah," my father muttered, though he was certainly uninterested in anything my mother had to say. "Lecturing our District about our history again."

"And then you let the Capitol send two of us to our deaths," I muttered slyly. That earned a glare from my father, who had bothered to move the newspaper below his eyes for once.

"Be grateful, the Capitol supply us with the money to grow produce to keep money in our household," his voice got deeper as the anger seeped in. "You shouldn't be so disrespectful, you should represent me with some more pride."

"They give you money, but they always have more!" I couldn't help but raise my voice in anger, and I didn't want to have a heated argument with my father so I stormed up the stairs to change and wash.

But I still heard him mutter something that hurt more than any punch could. "With that attitude, he deserves to be reaped."

Within ten minutes I had slipped into a smart suit and preened myself to my father's satisfaction, and as a 'family' him, my mother and I all walked down the miserable, sweltering streets of District Eleven for the reaping. My father always made sure I got what I wanted, but he was never around to give me smiles, hugs or any of the things normal families did.

In public he was being different; he held onto my mother's hand and held me close as we walked through the District, just to let us seem close and warm so that journalists couldn't whip up any more rumours.

But that was only pretend, a superficial warmth for the press. I always felt lucky - but what if I was missing out? Were gifts, gadgets and good food just something that looked good on the outside rather than something that fulfilled me within?

I guess I'd never find out.

"I'll go now, brighten the District with some fascinating history," my father said once my mother and I queued for me to sign in. I was tempted to tell him that most of the kids hated listening to the boring treaty, but I just allowed him to walk off in his happy little world.

Once I had signed in I moved into the seventeen's section and I was safely nestled within a group of my 'friends' - the reapings started and I caught a glimpse of my mother, looking at me at the sidelines on the verge of a breakdown as my father read out the treaty with pride.

Soon the treaty had ended and the pretty District Eleven escort, Magellan LaMonte, strutted onto the stage with her pretty face and hourglass figure. She was definitely attractive, even for an alien looking Capitolite, but her eyes looked kind of glazed and airy - just like her empty mind.

"Good day District Eleven!" She clapped her hands in an excited manner and moved towards the girls ball impatiently. "We all know the process by now - so our courageous young girl is..."

There were a couple of whispers as she clung onto a crisp piece of paper with a dead girl's name on it.

"Petunia Hines!"

A boy in front of me shouted in agony - emotional agony, of course, as he heard the girl's name and a group of boys started to comfort him. That was definitely her brother, no doubt about it. The girl who was reaped had dark hair, she was quite tall and very skinny - I could tell she was from one of the more fortunate families, and she was going to die. At least she wasn't crying like a typical weakling, but there was nothing amazing about her either way.

"Oh, what a lovely girl tribute!" Magellan told the silent audience whilst she moved to the other bowl, but they were too busy looking at the girl they felt so sorry for. "Now our boy is..."

She fumbled with a small piece of paper for a second, though she struggled to unravel it.

"Our boy is... One second..." She unravelled the paper and showed off her teeth that were blindingly white. "A mister Broson Gray!"

Oh shit. That was me, wasn't it? I took a breath and paused, now wasn't the time for cowardice - I had a shot of winning and I wasn't afraid to show it off. With a smirk I shoved the boy in front of me to the side.

"Broson, no!" My mother screamed behind me and her desperate voice made me want to stop and turn around. I tried to ignore it but the whole square was silent as she let off blood curdling screams. "My son... That's my son... That's my baby... Please!"

I continued walking forwards, and the shock hadn't faded yet. Me? Reaped? Wasn't I supposed to be one of the children in Panem?

"Don't take him! Please! Not my son!"

My mother continued to scream through the quiet square, and I could feel every eye pressed on me as my world was jarred into slow motion, all of them looked extremely sorry for me - I was certain nobody in the district liked me that much, but I didn't deserve to be reaped like that, did I?

As I clambered up onto the stage I couldn't tear my eyes from my sobbing mother as two Peacekeepers dragged her away and covered her mouth so that her screams were muted.

"Always one spoilsport or another," Magellan muttered to herself, and I was attempted to punch her in her smug face. My father was standing in his podium and he looked quite bemused to say the least. "Anyway, District Eleven... Here are your tributes!"

Yes, District Eleven, you look at your tributes - because this year you'll have a victor.

* * *

**Melanthe Hathaway, District 2, 17:**

"Good day Panem!" The bubble gum pink haired commentator grinned widely through the television screen. "I am sure you're as excited as we are for the official start of the Games, the Reapings!"

"How exciting," I muttered, flicking the television off with the click of a button. The Hunger Games were something I was always used to, but I didn't enjoy them - they had killed my mother after all. She was once a victor, but then she was called back in because of their Quarter Quell and killed.

"I love how they're happy that it's Reaping day," my friend Gabriel smirked - Gabriel and I had been friends since we were infants and we stuck together through thick and thin. "I'm pretty sure that the people from lower Districts would disagree."

"Five Careers end up dying too, you know," I muttered. "They all think they can win..."

"Well I have friends in the training centre," Gabriel frowned. "After the Katie mishap last year and having neither of our tributes making it to the Final Eight there are less people that want to volunteer."

"People are finally waking up, then," I muttered. I found the Careers ridiculously stupid, signing their own death warrant, people who liked the immoral Games were pretty idiotic - people in general tended to be pretty idiotic.

"Yeah," Gabriel stood up and brushed some dust off his smart reaping tuxedo. "So how about we grab one last drink before we go to the reapings?"

I stood up and smiled. "I'm famished, actually."

As we moved to the door it was thrown open to reveal a girl with glassy eyes and tangled hair - my sister Breviary. She was also a victor, but she had lost her mind through the memories of her Games. She escaped the Quarter Quell because we had faked her death so that she couldn't be taken from us and thrown in some kind of asylum...

We had been close once.

"Mel..." Breviary started talking, but she could only get a small bit of my name right. "Reaping."

"Yes, Breviary," I smiled at her cheerily, as if she were a naive child. "It's the reaping today."

Breviary paused and then threw herself on to me, clutching on to my neck tightly whilst trembling and wailing. I was a bit taken aback by the whole situation, but my father thankfully came in to get Breviary off me.

"Sorry," he mumbled as she clutched onto him and continued wailing. "She's just worried that you'll be reaped, that's all."

"Why?"

My father looked at a shaking Breviary before sighing. "Probably because she knows exactly what going in there was like."

I looked at the trembling mess that was my sister and I couldn't of agreed with my father more - in that arena she had seen death, she had inflicted it. She obviously knew how horrible that place could be...

"You know she has no reason to worry," I muttered, though my words felt dry and dead.

"Yeah," my father patted Breviary on the head warmly in an attempt to reassure her. "You look gorgeous in your reaping dress, by the way."

I couldn't help but blush a little as I looked down at the simple blue dress and comfortable shoes that I had picked out for the reaping. I was barely a fashionista, so I supposed that simple was best.

"Thanks," I muttered, though I still felt oddly embarrassed. My dad and I had never been close, our personalities clashed a lot, but I supposed that my mother's death had strengthened our relationship more.

"You and Gabriel better head off then," my father muttered, moving Breviary aside gently so that we could leave the house. "You know... Just have fun, do what kids do."

I didn't hesitate, so I quickly slipped past my dad and I moved into the streets of District Two. As usual the streets were stony grey with celebration banners and Hunger Games posters to brighten them. As Gabriel and I moved through the chaotic streets I could see all sorts of Hunger Games banners whilst people drank and celebrated in the street - the Hunger Games were detested here, they were loved by the majority of people and the street celebrations showed that.

"A bit excited, aren't they?" Gabriel muttered as we ordered our drinks in the cafe. "I just can't wait for this to be all over."

"Yeah," I muttered unhappily as I was given a plastic cup full of lemonade that was almost frozen. I tried to ignore the way people kept glancing at me, noticing that I was a relative of one of District Two's many victors. I tried to ignore the stares, but I abhorred attention and I could feel everyone's eyes locked on me.

"Is that Pierce?" Gabriel asked me as we glanced to a boy who was in the middle of the café, he shared the same blue eyes and dark brown hair that I did. Who else could it be?

"It is," I smirked and moved towards the table so that I was close to my twin brother, Pierce. After my mother's death my relationship with many of my relatives deteriorated, but I'd always be very close with my twin brother - he made me laugh and I knew he'd always be there for me.

"Hello stranger," I greeted my brother as I moved up to his table. He glanced to me and smiled enthusiastically.

"Oh, hey," he took a sip of his dark coffee. "So what are you doing here?"

"I was just nipping in with Gabriel," I felt strange, talking about all this idle chit-chat in a public place, but I could be myself quite easily around my brother. My eyes met the blonde haired girl who was sat next to Pierce, and they looked awfully comfortable. "Are you on a date?"

"Well..." Pierce looked down to conceal his blush. "I guess..."

"You're not welcome here," the girl next to him snapped after taking a sip of milkshake. "I wanted to go on a date, and I didn't want you to ruin it."

"Are you insinuating something?" I growled whilst I felt the anger begin to build inside me.

"You're moody and not fun to be around, that's what I'm insinuating - I actually hoped to avoid a miserable cow."

Without thinking my arm jerked and the ice cold lemonade in my drink was flung onto the girl's face. She gasped as the cold swept over her and splashed onto her dress, and the whole café went silent.

This is why I disliked people - nobody looked at things logically. Everybody was so judgemental and malicious, and every day I saw more and more examples that backed my philosophies, and that stupid girl was one of them.

"My-my dress!" The girl sputtered as she finally found the words to speak.

"It looks good on you," I smirked before turning to leave. "I hope you enjoy your drink."

Pierce stood up to say something but I rushed out of the café with Gabriel by my side. All I wanted was to go somewhere to grab a drink, yet there was always someone to ruin it.

"That was pretty badass," Gabriel smirked as we both walked back through the streets. Even glancing around the street made me angry, listening to girls talk about the same old stupid things whilst drunkards celebrated the special occasion whilst spewing their guts out into the street.

"I'm fed up," I grumbled.

"Look, Melanthe, I know you're in a bad mood with everyone because it's reaping day and all that, but you just have to listen to me-" Gabriel tried to stop my stride by grabbing on to my wrist, but I yanked my arm away whilst turning into the next street.

"I have no reason to be annoyed," I snarled, feeling my hands tremble as more colourful banners were draped around lampposts and buildings.

"Stop lying, Melanthe," Gabriel kept walking by my side like some annoying little lapdog. "I know exactly how you feel - after your mother and sister going away I'd be a bit upset on reaping day too..."

I paused in the middle of the street, listening as people in the street screamed in celebration. I slowly turned to Gabriel and looked right into his eyes. "Every year I have to look around the street and watch as people celebrate death - celebrate innocent children being turned into savage murderers... I mean, I shouldn't complain... The Hunger Games have always been around. I've lost my mother and sister to them in one way or the other. Does anybody stop and think about how much that hurts me, Gabriel? Does anybody stop and think that this thing isn't a movie?"

Gabriel moved over and hugged me, and though he tried to say something comforting his words were blanked out by screeching fireworks.

"People actually die," I muttered. I wasn't crying - I cried enough over the death of my mother, but inside I felt so pained.

"I know Melanthe," he muttered reassuringly. "But the sad truth is that the Hunger Games are a traditional part of life that you'll have to put up with - there's nothing you can do about it... But none of your family are going in this year and there'll be volunteers to keep you all safe."

"I want to do something," I muttered and pulled away from Gabriel. My thought process was all blurred - could I do something? Could I take matters into my own hands? And then it hit me that Jynx Blackthorne was going to mentor District Two this year... Every day I always had to desire to let her know how much she hurt me. Every day I felt the need to hurt her - and maybe now I finally had a chance...

And the only way to do that was to volunteer.

"I think I'll be okay Gabriel," I smiled at my comforting friend. I wouldn't be seeing him in weeks anyway - or maybe I'd never see him again.

I did have a shot in the Games, no matter what the odds and downsides were I had a brain - thar gave me an advantage over most of the Careers. My mother put me in training for a year and I did have a natural skill with a sword, so if I harnessed it I did had a chance of winning...

Gabriel and I parted ways at the town square so that we could find our families. My father and Pierce were standing there looking out for me whilst there was a girl with a hood that concealed her face - obviously Breviary.

"What is she doing here?" I scolded my dad as I approached him.

"She wanted to make sure you didn't get reaped," he explained as we were moved towards the gate to sign in. Thankfully Breviary was silent and she didn't give us away, she just trudged along miserably.

When me and Pierce signed in we moved into the town square and moved aside so that we could be segregated into different groups.

"I'm sorry for soaking your girlfriend," I sighed, looking into Pierce's eyes that were so identical to mine - would I see them like this again?

"It's fine, she wasn't the nicest person on earth," Pierce smiled and squeezed my hand reassuringly. "Good luck Melanthe."

I felt my stomach do a mad cartwheel as I moved into the girl's seventeen section. I certainly needed the good luck that was wished upon me. The mayor read out the treaty of treason excitedly as the District anticipated their strong, brave Careers.

And then our silver haired District escort, Fi-Fi Pendanski, glided on to the stage with a malevolent grin. Her wispy hair and white skin made her appear like some kind of ghost as dead as twenty three of this year's tributes. Behind her was an angry looking Jynx Blackthorne, whose purple hair had faded into a dull lilac colour. As usual seeing her face made me furious.

"Good day District Two!" Fi-Fi squealed, jumping up and down excitedly. "We want some good, strong tributes this year so lets see who we get!"

With that she moved to one of the glass bowls and grabbed a slip of paper with an evil grin on her face - I already readied myself for sprinting up on to the stage and declaring myself a tribute before the other Careers got there.

"Athenin Gaia!" Fi-Fi bellowed out to the audience, but my hand shot up in sync with another girl who was stood in front of me. Two girl volunteers was a scarce amount for District Two, but that suited me just fine.

"I volunteer!" We both shouted out, and the girl stepped forward to race to the stage. I hooked my foot around her ankle as she raced fowards and she squealed as her face had been planted into the stone cold ground. Once the Career girl was successfully tripped I pushed past the crowd so that I could stumble onto the stage. This was it - it had been a decision I made less than

ten minutes ago, but I was now the volunteer of District Two.

"What's your name darling?" Fi-Fi asked as I regained my breath.

"Melanthe Hathaway," I mumbled, feeling some kind of regret blossom in my stomach. I could see Gabriel's shocked expression at the front of the crowd, I could make out Pierce - his face stony as he looked up at me.

The District cheered, though one scream was louder as a hooded girl stood in between the swarm of boys and girls and screamed out.

"I volunteer!" She bellowed desperately as my father tried to hold her back. "Don't take my sister - I volunteer! I can win, I volunteer!"

I tried to ignore Breviary's shouts. Fi-Fi looked confused and glanced at the girl before speaking into the microphone.

"I'm sorry dear, we aren't taking volunteers anymore - better luck next year."

Breviary paused for a second and then collapsed as my father tried keeping her on her feet with little success - she pounded at the rocky ground with her hands like a child having a tantrum and when I saw the tears streaming from my father's face I knew that this was it. My fate was set in stone, I was going to be the third Hathaway to fight in the Games.

"Okay we have Melanthe as our female - our male tribute will be..." She grabbed a slip of paper and began to read the name out, but a tall boy with short blonde hair charged onto the stage from the side and stood beside me.

"No point," he said. "I, Archimedes Plutus, will volunteer for the two hundred and third Games."

Archimedes was definitely a Career - I knew that from the muscles he possessed, as well as that menacing, bloodthirsty grin. But he wasn't a brute, he was anything but; he spoke eloquently, elaborating every word carefully, and I knew that he was an intelligent strategist. He had definitely stood by the side of the stage so that he could stride in without any opposition to stop him.

Maybe I didn't think things through enough... I had been quick to assume that the Careers would all be stupid. There were going to be tributes that are smarter than me, faster than me, stronger than me...

But I was going to fight as hard as I could. Fight to win, fight to show my mother than the Games weren't going to destroy all of us-

If she was here would she be proud of me?

"So District Two here are your brave tributes!" Fi-Fi grabbed our hands and raised them as the whole District cheered, hooted and chanted like the hooligans they were.

Now the hardest bit was going to start: telling my family and Gabriel why I had volunteered, and then go off to the Capitol to fight, and probably die in a forest somewhere.

* * *

**Thanks for the tributes, xx-Twisted Fantasy-xx and BowserBoy129.**

**So, though this is doing great with the reviews (keep it up!) this story doesn't seem to lie on many people's author alerts. So yeah - you should put this on alerts, and faves if you want to be a star.**

**Also a reminder I had on the last story - I'm British, so I use British spelling and that includes "mum" instead of "mom."**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: What do you think of these two darlings?_

Interview Question: Do you have a favourite District?


	4. The Goodbyes

**Karble Ive, District 3, 18:**

* * *

The Peacekeepers escorted me into the Justice Building which possessed gold, marble and some of the most dazzling things in the District and yet there was something undeniably grim - maybe my viewpoint saw things more negatively because I was about to be sent to my death.

Never in my life had I been so scared, terror would've been a better word. One minute I was a boy who was readying himself to leave school and begin a long, successful career in politics and the next - the moment the escort called my name - I felt every career opportunity I had getting dragged away from me.

And no matter how optimistic I tried being I couldn't see myself clutching that opportunity back. I wasn't the most physically able to say the least. I may not have been malnourished like some of the starving District Three boys, but I was nothing compared to the Careers.

There were so many things that I wanted to do when I was younger, so many opportunities that floated in the air waiting for me to grab them. After seeing powerful men on the television I had always wanted to be like the President and call the shots, and since then I had been working actively to become the next big politician. I had been guaranteed a placement in the District Three senate and next month I was leaving school and finding a job in the treasury.

It felt like a dream come true - I had done well in school, acquired outstanding grades and I was beginning to climb the ladder of power, but all that hope was in vain.

So far the only opposition I knew I had was some sixteen year old girl called Danielle Wright; I knew her from school and she seemed like the average District Three girl with little muscle and a wiry frame, so I didn't have to worry about her. But I did have to worry about the Careers, the teenagers that had spent their whole lives training to slaughter children, teens who knew how to kill a kid in thousands of ways-

They were the opposition, the ones that terrified me. For once in my life I wished that I had the physical power of a Career instead of the political power I potentially held on to, but as a true politician I knew I wasn't going to give up without a fight.

I played every game to win, even if it was a game I was forced in to. The Careers would be able to get sponsors with their training scores but I had different abilities: I was an amazing public speaker, I knew what people liked to hear as opposed to what I wanted to say and I could play with their fears and desires.

And yes, I was bright - maybe not bright enough to make giant electromagnetic generators fry the other tributes like past contenders, but I had a lot of common sense and I supposed that was vital for survival.

The doors burst open and I was blinded by the light outside as my parents hurried themselves into the room. My father's eyes were wide in shock as he walked in and seeing his haunted expression and pallid face made me want to close my eyes and never open them again.

Though at some point in the arena that wish would probably come true, wouldn't it?

My parents were usually joyful people; my dad was a bit of a clown who always joked and my mother was a bubbly person who could talk about the latest gossip all day, but now they looked much different. My father's smile had been replaced by a frown and my mother's make-up was ruined by the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

"Karble!" She wailed in despair before shoving her head into my clothes and sobbing violently; I wanted to cry too, but I knew that crying would only make her even more upset.

"It's going to be okay," I muttered, though we both knew that my words were meaningless.

"I guess this is goodbye, then," my father looked at me seriously. He was always the optimist who saw potential in everything, but there was barely any chance of me surviving. I wanted to be angry with his lack of faith but I knew he was only being realistic.

"Don't say that!" My mother stopped hugging me swiftly so that she could glare at my father. "Karble can get home... I... I know he can!"

My father looked at his feet, and the tears seemed to appear in his eyes for a brief second, though he didn't allow himself to break down. "Karmen... I-"

"My son might not be a Career, but he has a brain!" My mother shouted loudly, probably so that the weeping family in the other room could hear. "He has my father's genes I tell you - a bulky, big boy."

She was lying, of course - I had tried working out once in an attempt to man up, though it failed. I looked still looked ridiculously thin with little muscular definition.

"I... I guess so," my father smiled weakly and I was relieved that he didn't tell my mother that my 'muscles' were limp and flimsy compared to the ones the average Career's possessed. "Karble - you're a politician, right?"

"I was going to be one," I muttered. Though saying goodbye to my family hurt, saying goodbye to my future career was agonising.

"Same difference," he pressed on. "All of you politicians are the bloody same, right? You can lie yourself out of anything, you're all bastards, but you're charming bastards."

My father had a way with words.

"What he's trying to say is that you can get sponsors," my mother clung onto my hand and smiled weakly, though there were still tears pouring down her eyes.

"No, Karmen, you don't get it!" My father stood up, as if a lightbulb had blinked over his head. "A politician's job is to backstab other people, and Karble is a budding politician... He'll know how to deceive people, isn't that right, Karble?"

"Err... Yeah," I mumbled.

"Well that's your strategy! Worm your way into a powerful alliance and say you're the 'brains' - and once you've fought your way into the finals backstab them!"

"I'll try..." I didn't exactly sound enthusiastic, but I supposed that a flawed strategy was better than nothing.

My mother dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a tissue before handing me a diamanté rose pin. "Whatever you do Karble, I'll be right beside you - okay? Keep that as your District token... To... To r-remember..."

She burst into tears and I glanced at my mother's favourite piece of jewelry whilst my father consoled her. I had planned to take my head boy pin as a token, but I was never going to ignore my mother's wishes... Even if the pin was a bit too effeminate for my liking.

"And you take this," I clipped my badge off and handed it into my mother's palm. "And... Remember me, I guess."

My dad placed a hand on my shoulder and his eyes bore into mine seriously. "Karble, before we go... You know I'm proud of you, right?"

That did make me tear up, even just a little. I knew my dad was proud of me - I saw it in his eyes - but he never said it directly - he always told me to try and do better, or to strive for the best. I had wanted to hear him tell me he was proud for years.

And then the Peacekeepers came in and whisked my parents out. I was left alone again, listening to the muffled conversation of the girl next door, and then two people walked in.

My friend Micra, with her pretty face and wide blue eyes and Darwin, who was suave, cocky and athletic - though I always thought I was destined to be more successful than Darwin he'd have a much bigger shot at winning the Hunger Games than I would.

"Karble... I..." Micra ran up and hugged me tightly. "I don't know what to say... I can't even cry... I'm just shocked... I..."

"Don't be hysterical," I told her, though it was nice to see someone be shocked and upset - I did expect a whole group of tearful friends sobbing as they wished me goodbye, and though I was disheartened Micra and Darwin were good enough for me anyway.

"Don't die," Micra pulled away and looked me seriously in the eyes. "I... I really don't want you to go... You..."

"We don't want you to leave, K-Dizzle," Darwin smiled, though I could tell he didn't mean to.

"Don't call me that, it's embarrassing," I smirked at my friends, and inside I was thankful that at least smiles could be exchanged in our last goodbye. "You two won't go all mad if I die, right?"

"We really can't promise that Karble," Micra's voice cracked as she tried to restrain her emotions. "We're all so used to you being with us... And it'd be weird if someone didn't scold Darwin for picking his nose..."

Though Darwin looked a little insulted, he held Micra closer as she seemed more visibly close to tears. "Mic-"

"And I'd have no competition in technology class... And... I r-really don't want you to-"

Before she could get the last dreaded word out she broke down and sobbed into Darwin's shoulders. There was an awkward minute of silence as Darwin just held her there whilst the atmosphere turned horribly sombre. No-one had the strength to say it, but it couldn't be denied that I was being sent into death...

"Don't give up, Karble," Darwin said as the Peacekeepers called my two best friends out. "We're vouching for you..."

And then Micra stood up and the two were escorted out with linked hands, which made me smile weakly. Micra and Darwin always had a love/hate relationship, and it would've been nice if my death did something positive, like bring my two friends closer together.

The next in was my older sister, Elise. Because there was a large age gap between my sister and I we didn't see much of each other, and though I loved her I was never particularly close to her. In her arms was her son, and beside her was her lanky husband who I barely knew.

"Oh Karble," she rushed over to me and crouched down, looking at me directly in the eyes. "I... I don't know what to say."

"A bit of advice would do," I mumbled. I was usually a good thinker or strategist, but the fear that gripped me right now was too much - I could barely string up a sentence, let alone formulate a strategy.

"I don't know..." Elise sighed whilst her husband stood towards the door awkwardly. "Oh Karble... I... I'm so sorry."

With that she wrapped one of her arms around me and forced me into a warm embrace, which seemed strange at first but eventually I managed to find the strength to hug her back. "It's not your fault Elise..."

"I mean for not getting to know you," Elise sniffled slightly whilst she struggled to keep in the tears. "Or for not having you know your nephew..."

As she pulled away I looked at the baby I barely knew, and I noticed how much it - or he - resembled me facially.

"You always cared," I said as the baby giggled, so unaware of the depressing situation - so unknowing of the dystopian world it lived in. "That's what matters."

"If you come back..." Elise started off, and I noted how she used the word 'if.' She wasn't naïve, she knew this was probably the last time she'd see me. "I'd... I'd take you out more or something, or let you babysit..."

"Yeah, that'd be fun..." Though almost impossible, I thought.

The Peacekeepers then opened the door and looked in seriously, and Elise held onto my hand tighter as if she never wanted to let go of it again.

"Elise..." Her husband called her from the door before glancing at me sympathetically. "Time to go now..."

"And please, Karble, don't let yourself die so easily... Because if you die..." She held her baby as she stood to leave. "I wouldn't want to see mum and dad so broken."

"I'll try," I choked. Elise wiped some lost tears off her cheeks before standing up and walking towards the door.

"Goodbye Karble..." She moved to the door and cast one last glance before walking out and muttering something that sounded like 'goodbye forever.'

There was a moment which I used to compose myself, I used a handkerchief to dab at my eyes before before I was to be guided to the train station which would take me away to the Capitol, where I would be sent into the arena to embrace my fate.

Whether I was going to be brutally murdered by the Careers, torn apart by a mutt or crushed by falling trees, it was a fate that I hadn't accepted. I promised Elise I would try my best, and that wasn't a promise I was going to break easily.

With a false grin I glanced into the nearest mirror at my reflection. The Pre-Games events would be so easy to me, seeing as I was a politician who knew how to play an audience.

And the first thing was looking presentable; cleanliness is next to godliness. I straightened all my clothing with my hands and then sculpted my hair into a small quiff until I was satisfied with everything - not one hair could be out of place because you never knew when it would be highlighted in a magazine or newspaper.

Once my District partner was done talking to any friends and family she had the Peacekeepers escorted us out of the Justice Building and into the train station, where we were blinded by flashing lights of the camera and deafened by adoring screams.

If this was what politics was like with all the attention and love I knew that I would be missing out on the opportunity I had craved for so long. And now I'd be fighting to seize that opportunity back.

Through the blinding blue light of the cameras I caught a glimpse of my District partner; she was my competition, but I knew she wasn't going to put up much of a fight. She was skinny and underfed like the majority of District Three, and while the adoring paparazzi called out our names she didn't wave or move because she had the charisma of a demented badger.

"Looks like we're in for a rough ride, don't you think?" I grinned as we stepped onto the train, our escort at our heels. "My name is Karble Ive, by the way."

"Danni... Danni Wright," she shook my hand curtly as I looked at a mysterious glint in her eye. "I know you, you're the one who delivered that speech last summer."

"Thank you very much... And nice name," I complimented her despite feeling unnerved by her enigmatic presence.

"And in answer to your question, yes, we're in for a rough ride," Danni looked at me once before walking down the train's corridor and dissolving into the shadows.

As much as I hated to admit it Danni couldn't be more right.

* * *

**Helen Aspen, District 10, 14:**

I glanced to the audience who were all staring at the ground, giving off a solemn atmosphere whilst I could hear my father crying out for me in the background. I tried to remember everything that had went on but it seemed so impossible - this was it, I was going into the Games.

And for me going into the Games meant dying; I had no talents. I wasn't fast, strong and I didn't have any clue on how to use weapons. I was kind of smart, but probably nowhere near as clever as the tributes from Three, Five and Six.

The moment my name had been called was the moment my coffin had been lowered into the ground. Here in District Ten we label tributes that looked like bloodbaths (like the ones in District Twelve) 'dead men walking' - and now I knew why. I was going to die but at this very moment I was living and breathing, I was a dead woman walking.

"Well, say goodbye to your District Ten tributes!" Geonova Fillington beamed. He was our escort who had bull horns implanted into his head so that he could represent District Ten even further.

And before I knew it I was scooped up and whisked away to a building that seemed to be carved out of marble and gold - the Justice Building. I had never been there, but I always stopped and looked at it in all its marvel whenever I passed. Marble and gold were so rare, so scarce.

"And you two will say goodbye to your families whilst I get my hair re-done," Geonova said as my District partner and I stepped in. Before any of us could say anything Geonova slammed the door behind us, leaving us in a darkened corridor.

"I'm Leo by the way," my District partner smiled at me and grabbed my hand. I shook it just to be polite, but I didn't trust Leo - I didn't trust people in the normal world, and the Hunger Games had much more back-stabbing than the corrupt ways of normality.

"I'm Helen."

The boy moved down the corridors and closed the steel door of the room he was supposed to say goodbye in. I thought I knew Leo, or my dad worked with his once before his dad became paralysed in an accident, and now that Leo was probably sent off to die. That meant that the Brydon family were going to lose their two best workers.

I almost wanted him to win but that wasn't the right way of thinking because his life meant my death. Not that we'd survive anyway; one of us would get skewered by a weapon or something eventually.

I wasn't morbid, just realistic.

"Get into your assigned room," a Peacekeeper behind me jabbed me in the back with his gun. I yelped in pain whilst moving forwards into the room. Though my 'goodbye room' didn't hold the grandeur of the Justice Building's exterior the satin couch that I sat on was probably worth more than anything I had ever seen in my life.

I waited there in silence whilst wondering who would visit. My father? My brothers? Maybe even Lilly would visit; despite the fact I didn't talk to her much I'd still consider her a friend. I knew my mother wouldn't visit, she never did.

My mother was one of the richer women of District Ten. She grew up in the lap of luxury, bubbly and happy. One day she met my father, and though he was below her social status he treated her like royalty. She had never been treated better and as a result she mistook her small infatuation for him as love.

They eventually married and had my elder brothers and I. And then everything went wrong; my mother's family disowned her for marrying below her status, she had to work to provide for her children and my father didn't treat her like a princess because he was so busy raising a family. She became miserable and depressed.

So she left when I was four. I could barely remember it, but I could remember my father and her screaming at each other. I tried to hug on to her knee as she grabbed her coat and plead.

"I love you honey, but I love my wellbeing more," was all she said before she walked away forever. I couldn't remember my parent's divorce, but I remember those words - the words that would always haunt me and remind me why I couldn't trust anyone. Even my family would go away in the end.

"Helen," my father opened the doors and peered in. There was a silence and before I knew it he rushed over and pulled me into a tight hug whilst crying. "I'm so sorry... I... I can't..."

"It's okay," I said, though my voice sounded weak with emotion. I tried to fight back the urge to cry so that my family didn't know how pained I was.

"Your brothers are here," my dad told me whilst trying to sound optimistic, though I could still feel the wet tears on his face. "They'll say goodbye too, once my time is up."

"Make the most of it," I sighed. He needed to make the most of it, it was the last time he'd ever see me - he knew that. I knew that.

"You'll try your best, right?"

I sighed exasperatedly. My father was too kind and optimistic for his own good, and that worried me. I was a bloodbath in every way - I was too chubby to run, too skinny to fight and I wasn't remotely good looking. Nobody would sponsor me, and even if someone did I wouldn't make it past the first battle.

"Dad... I... I don't think I'm going to live," I croaked, and though I tried my best not to cry the tears escaped. Admitting that you were destined for death was never a good thing to do when you had your father with you.

"No!" My father cried out as I tried to pull away from the hug before he held on to me tighter. "Helen you don't know how much you mean to me..."

"Of course I know," I sobbed.

"You don't... You and your brothers are all I have," my father pulled away whilst wiping his eyes with his sleeves. He then framed my face with his hands before looking into my eyes seriously. "Promise me you'll try to fight?"

"I ca-"

"Promise me, Helen."

I looked into my father's dark eyes, the eyes that were identical to mine. And then I saw the pain in them, the pain he had when my mother left, the pain he had when he couldn't provide us with food because business was low; I had seen this pain so many times before and I didn't want to see that pain again.

False hope wasn't much, but it was a better feeling than despair. I paused before smiling weakly at my wonderful, hard working father again.

"I have a plan," I lied. "And I'll try my best to get home dad... I'm not going to give up."

The Peacekeepers came in and announced that my father's time was up as he clung on to my hand, all the pain from his eyes had diminished and reappeared as false hope.

"Do you promise?"

"Yes," I muttered.

"Sir, your time is up," a peacekeeper said as they clung on to his shoulders. That only made him hold on tighter.

"You won't ever give up? You'll fight to the end?"

"Of course I will..." I said to my father with teary eyes as he hand was pulled from mine. My father was pulled away from me and though I didn't want to I cried out for him one last time.

"Don't give up," he told me one last time before he was dragged away from me.

I was left in silence before my two brothers came into the room. Tristan had the same old solemn face; like me he had been hardened by our mother. Chris was always the bright one who made a joke out of everything, but he wasn't bright at the moment and he couldn't make a joke this time.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Tristan said as he gave me a small hug. He then silently pulled away whilst I smiled weakly, knowing that Tristan did truly care - he just didn't know how to express it.

"Well, what did dad say?" Chris asked me as I looked at the plush, plum coloured carpet hopelessly.

"He made me promise I'd try my best to get out of that arena alive," I told Chris, and though I had given my father hope I was still doubtful - I didn't have a master plan, though I liked to think I did.

"And... You meant it, right?" I looked up to see Tristan glancing at me with the same hope in his eyes as my father.

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"You have a chance," Chris smiled at me, though his usual brightness had dulled it was still enough to make the corners of my mouth curl upwards. I always worried about the people I loved leaving me, but I knew Chris would always be by my side. "You... You're a smartass. You could easily outwit the Careers."

"Before being outwitted by the dangerous wires District Three tributes tend to make? Or being poisoned by a District Six person?" I told Chris, making his optimistic facade fade for a second.

"They won't make it past the bloodbath," Chris protested, though he looked glum. "You know that... I know that..."

"Who's saying I'll survive the bloodbath?"

"You will," Tristan spoke out, surprising me once again. "Just run straight into the forest... You can find water and food in there, so don't bother risking your life for a loaf of bread."

I smiled at Tristan whilst Chris held on to my hand, dropping something on to it. "And take this... It's lucky after all. You may just develop ninja powers so that you can seriously beat the crap out of the Careers."

I giggled a bit before my gaze moved to the cold, solid thing on my palm. I saw the one credit coin in my hand and I smiled weakly at Chris. The dented, ruined coin was something Chris found whilst we were travelling on the road that lead us to town. For some reason Chris has always had it close - he'd had this illusion that the battered old coin he found on the road would bring him luck.

"You want this as my token?" I asked in disbelief whilst my thumb stroked the dints in the coin.

"It's lucky," Chris said. "It'll give you luck."

I pocketed the coin and looked at both of my brothers. "Luck? I'll need plenty of that."

Chris smirked and opened his mouth to reply, but the peacekeepers quickly called the visitors out. There was an emotional goodbye as Tristan gave me the same old last piece of advise - learn to use a weapon, stay hidden and always have water. Chris had to be dragged out, and seeing tears stream from his eyes made me cry too.

This was going to be worse than I imagined, all the emotional goodbyes. My friend Lilly visited, though she wasn't my friend - she was more of an acquaintance who I walked to school with, and we only ever talked about the books that we liked to read.

There was no conversation when Lilly visited. There was only a sympathetic look as we sat in silence, hardly talking as if this was a walk to school and not a final goodbye. That's what I liked about Lilly; nothing fazed her.

"Did you ever get to finish Moby Dick?" Lilly asked out of the blue whilst I used the blissful silence to calm my nerves.

"No," I said. "I didn't."

"I'd give it to you," Lilly said before rummaging into her bag and bringing out a battered old book. "But you already have a token, don't you?"

My hand instinctively held on to Chris' coin, trying to absorb the lucky vibe that he managed to hold for years. "Yeah. I do."

There was another silence, and Lilly's visit ended when the Peacekeepers called her out. She gave me one long look before she stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder and smiled at me weakly. She felt sorry for me; I could see it in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Helen," she sighed. "Good luck."

And then she left, leaving me to wonder why so many people always wished me luck when they knew that luck wasn't in my favour. Twenty-four tributes, six Careers and a bunch of underdogs. I was nothing.

My thought process was ruined when my mother walked in with her hair wet from the rain that had been pouring outside. Her cheeks were wet, whether by tears or the downpour, but I didn't care. My mother had a new life now, with a new husband and a new business. Why was she taking notice of me now?

"Helen..." She moved over to the sofa, throwing off her coat that was made from the finest wool and opening her bag that was crafted from the grandest leather. "Baby... I'm so sorry."

"Don't call me baby," I said stiffly. "Why are you here?"

My mother looked up at me, affronted. "Helen... I want to say goodbye... You're my daughter."

"I am not your daughter," I said defensively, clenching my fists. This coin probably wasn't so lucky after all - I had to spend my time with the woman who I hated, the woman who abandoned me.

"I gave birth to you didn't I?" My mother said, trying to hide the hurt in her eyes as she lit a cigarette and took a drag. "You're my daughter.

"You didn't see me off to my first day at school," my voice was hushed as the silent rage brewed up inside of me. "You didn't comfort me when I felt unworthy, or teach me how to write... So no, you are not my mother."

She blew out the cigarette fumes in reply before actually speaking. "I provided for you and your brothers."

"No you did not!" I stood up and shouted as the anger began to spill out. How dare she tell me she raised me when she didn't even send me christmas or birthday gifts. "My father and Tristan have to work hours at a slaughterhouse to provide for me. My father raised me - Tristan raised me to a degree, but you did not raise me. You abandoned me!"

My mother stood up too, glaring at me angrily. "Oh, did Markus tell you that?"

"Yes, dad did," I seethed.

"Think clearly - two slaughterhouse jobs is barely enough to provide four people with food," my mother told me before throwing the cigarette onto the carpet, stomping on it with her leather boots so it was extinguished. "How does your father pay the bills? How do you have clothes on your back? Because of me!"

There was an awkward silence. Did my mother really aid us financially through the years? Seeing as my dad and Tristan's jobs were so low paying there must have been some kind of aid needed. And then the question I'd been willing to ask came out of my mouth:

"Why... Why did you go? Why did you never visit me?"

My mother looked at the carpet which she had ruined and I could almost feel the guilt running through her as she paused, trying to explain herself. After a while she answered. "I... Helen, it's complicated."

"You loved me," I recited the words she had said ten years ago, feeling my heart crack a little. "But you loved your wellbeing more, didn't you?"

"He-" My mother started.

"Get out," I mumbled as my fists clenched in fury so that the 'lucky coin' Chris had given me dug its way into the flesh of my palm. My mother looked at me with a stunned expression as she tried to process my words - had she expected this to end well after years of ignoring my existence?

"Helen..." She began with tears pouring down her face.

"Get out!" I shouted this time, grabbing a lamp and throwing it at the wall angrily. The warning was enough, and as bits of glass rained down onto the floor I screamed at her with tears of rage pouring down my face. "Get out! Get out! Go away!"

And then she did go away, leaving me alone for the final time. I was confused, angry and I was going to die. And with trembling hands I glanced at the Panem emblem that was engraved on to Chris' lucky coin, wondering if I'd be lucky enough to survive.

Probably not.

* * *

**Sorry for the late update... I've been ridiculously busy! No more excuses from me, the next chapter will be up in about 3-4 days.**

**Also over 50 reviews in 3 chapters? That is... Wow. Speechless. Keep that up, please! I haven't responded to reviews lately as I've been so busy but I really do read and appreciate them.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: What do you think of these two? Big thanks to singclapclap and The Girl with the Amber Eyes for them :)_

Interview Question: If you had a final goodbye with your family what would you say?


	5. The Journey

**Cardinal Volke, District 9, 16:**

* * *

We were lead out of the Justice Building, to the train that would take us to fight and to kill. The thought of killing sent waves of pleasure washing over every cell in my body and I knew that I couldn't wait to bury my dagger into the flesh of an innocent child whilst the nation watched, and there would be no repercussions.

To win all I had to do was murder, and murder was what I was best at; I was a natural predator and all the 'atrocities' I was going to commit in the arena would be legal, no strings attached killing... I didn't have to hide who I was.

In District Nine the majority of the population were afraid to roam the streets because they knew that there was a serial killer at loose, but they were unaware that I was that killer who lurked in the shadows and attacked their neighbors.

And when I was in the Games I could finally reveal who I was, just to spice things up a little.

I had to admit that fate was definitely putting on a show when it decided that I would be the male tribute for the Hunger Games. My District Partner was a bit of a boring choice though - just a snivelling thirteen year old brat who had to be dragged on to the train by our escort.

"Just be calm and we'll all try and get you through this in one piece," the escort (Daymiun) whispered to the girl. I tried to stop myself snorting with disbelief - a weasel like that girl would never make it.

I hated people. I hated the whole world. If the world was caught in one giant fire I wouldn't care as humanity was toasted, I'd only sit in the inferno and laugh at their pain and suffering. Humanity and society had made me suffer for many years, and I was about to repay them by making their children suffer and squirm.

With that thought in my head I stepped into the train that would lead me into the arena that I would turn into my abattoir.

As we stepped into the train Daymiun brushed past us to arrange our food or something, and Elise's tear filled blue eyes suddenly narrowed, the way she held herself changed completely.

"Just wait until we get into the arena," she snarled as she moved forward. "I might be thirteen, but I won't let you live."

"Ah, the pretend weakling tactic," I followed the small girl and admired the beautiful antiques and luxury goods the train possessed, it probably held more money and valuable goods than all of District Nine put together.

"I'm not pretending to be weak," the girl snorted and turned to face me in the hallway. "I'm just following my killer instinct."

"And what do you know about killer instinct?" With one arm I pinned the girl to the wall, and though she struggled at first she wasn't as strong as me.

"You'd be surprised," she hissed as the door slid open. I span around as Daymiun stood in the doorway and looked at us with his serious eyes. Daymiun wasn't like the other Capitol freaks; he was blunt and to the point, and though he wore light makeup he didn't follow their ridiculous fashions.

"Cardinal killing off the competition early will only put you in jeopardy," he spoke smoothly and calmly. "Now come inside so that we can watch the reapings recap and discuss strategy."

I moved my hand away from Elise and glared at her, though she only glared back. Elise and I were very similar - it seemed we both wanted a taste of blood and we were both enigmatic, though for now I needed to make sure that Elise's cloak was lifted.

I had killed before many times since the tender age of five; I could still remember watching as my father squeezed the life out of my mother and for the first time my natural killer instinct took over and I destroyed the man who woke me up to humanity. Humanity was a plague that needed to be wiped out, and I was going to assist the extermination of the Homo Sapiens.

As I sat down on the plush leather sofa I wondered what was going to happen to me in the arena - killing was inevitable, but I needed to make sure I wasn't the one who was hunted down. I wanted to get home and continue my mission to rid District Nine's streets of scum...

My main ambition was to slit the throat of an important political figure so that my name was forever scrawled in history books, and if I did that and became a Victor my name would be infamous - I would be legendary.

Then for a second I thought of the people that visited me in the Justice Building. My sister Kristina held on to me in tears, fearing the loss of her only relative, and my only friend Mia held my hand and told me to do whatever it takes.

Would they be shocked when I took 'whatever it takes' to a whole new level? Would they disown me once I told Panem that I was the killer that District Nine had been fearing for five years?

I hoped not, because out of the millions of humans on the world those were the two I cared about, though my feelings for Mia were quite clouded - was she my friend, or was she just a girl who listened to my rants?

Either way I appreciated her.

There was an awkward silence for about ten minutes as I glanced out of the window, watching trees and mountains rush by as I was driven miles away, and my stomach still felt fuzzy and funny whilst I thought about murdering. Across the room Elise's small body sunk into the large armchair as she looked at me thoughtfully.

I was willing to bet the scheming witch was plotting my death, but then all of a sudden she buried her face in her hands and started sobbing. I knew this wasn't an act, I had seen genuine fear and it was prominent in the young girl's eyes.

Daymiun whispered more whispers of encouragement at the mysterious girl while I observed the room; it had regal walls that were crafted from solid gold, the carpets were feathery and red and there were numerous statues and paintings hung up. In front of us was a large television that seemed cover the whole wall like a threatening black mirror.

"Okay, the reapings are on in five minutes and I want to discuss tactics - Elise, look - listen to me..."

"I'm going to die," Elise sobbed. "I don't know what to do!"

"Look - first thing's first, you grab food and water and sprint out of that Cornucopia, do you get me?" Daymiun looked at the girl seriously. "I might only be an escort but you have to do that to survive. Do you have any strengths?"

"I know a bit about plants... But..."

"That's enough," Daymiun smiled at her. "Just learn how to use a weapon in training and you'll do fine Elise, okay?"

Elise nodded and I couldn't help but frown. My plant knowledge wasn't amazing - that put her one step ahead in terms of survival, but at least she had little knowledge with weapons, because something told me she wouldn't be afraid to use them.

"Cardinal, do you have a strategy?" Daymiun turned to me as a plump lady with mad burgundy hair wheeled in a silver tray that was stacked with all sorts of food: meats and fish, fruit and vegetables, all sorts of meals I had never seen in my life and jugs of liquids in all colours.

"I'm going to kill," I said cooly as I snapped a chicken leg off and tore off the meaty flesh with my teeth. The food here was amazing, and even I was impressed!

"Is that all you have planned?" Daymiun asked whilst glancing at me.

He was right - I needed to plan something. I wasn't a vampiric killer that charged at its prey for the stupid thrill no matter the consequences, because I was a planner - an intelligent tribute. Like some of the genius victors I needed a plan, and setting two Careers up against each other would be a good distraction.

"Trust me," I muttered as the master plan began to unfold in my head. "I have it all under control-"

I was halted mid-sentence as the Capitol anthem lulled itself out of the television speakers. Elise glanced at the television eagerly with her wide rabbit eyes whilst I rushed back into my seat to watch all the potential victims rush by before me.

District One flashed onto the screen in golden letters and I knew what kind of tributes would come out of the luxury goods District - Careers. The girl was a fierce looking redhead and she swept onto the stage, followed by a tall boy who was silent and probably much too psychopathic for his own good, not that I was one to talk.

District Two swept by and two tributes that rolled on stage surprised me - both volunteers, yet both unusual tributes. The girl was an older girl with dark hair and though she looked determined I knew she wasn't a killer, but the boy who strolled on the stage from the side was certainly interesting - he looked strong, but I knew he was too tactical to be a generic Career brute.

District Three didn't surprise me, but I didn't expect them to be tough opponents anyway. I just lay back whilst enjoying the softness of the seat, watching as a typical shocked looking girl stumbled on to the stage followed by a shocked looking boy. Though the girl feigned confidence I could sense that she was just as scared as the boy was, and she had the same degree of inexperience.

District Four provided a nice break; I didn't like looking at the poor twigs tremble as they looked up to the cameras coyly. I wanted to enter the Games for the fun, for the competition, and District Four's girl didn't bring it; she was lithe and not ridiculously skinny like the lower District children, but I knew she wasn't a Career. She walked up to the stage whilst the abject realisation hit her, she was going into the Games. A male volunteer followed - with his good looks and muscles I knew he was going to be the bigger fish to fry.

And therefore the most interesting tribute to butcher.

I grinned as District Five came up, expecting the same batch of victims. The girl who was called up was some plain, average Five girl who looked sickeningly adorable in her cute yellow reaping dress. Though there was something about her that unnerved me - probably the fact that her face seemed devoid of any emotion. The boy that was also called up was muscular but nothing else, no real threat.

Elise looked at the screen intently as the District Six emblem flashed across the screen followed by the Reaping recap. Another shocked looking young boy was summoned up, but the girl was interesting - she made no sound, but she spat on the stage with clenched fists and an angry expression.

Years ago District Six used to be a transportation District, but that changed when District civilians used their equipment to transport themselves away. Now all they did was make high tech medical inventions that would only ever be used by Capitolites.

And that District Six girl... She was ready to let that anger out in the arena, I could almost sense it. I almost laughed manically as I thought about how fun this competition was going to be, and that earned me a horrified look from my mercurial District partner and my escort. Not that that bothered me; I didn't care what they thought.

"You can go now," Daymiun said as he sunk into the chair with wide eyes.

I was quick to follow his orders, and in a split second I was out of the room. I opened the door with 'D9M' in it, knowing it was my room, and I observed it with a smirk before I took out the black book I used as a journal.

As a killer in District Nine I wanted to record every murder, so I could savour every death - who the person was, how they died, when and where. I would use it to show my district partner how capable I was of killing and record the new victims.

The best thing was that the deaths would be recorded; if I survived I'd be able to watch every murder at the mind again and again, it was like taking my journal entries to a whole new level! And to make it better there was nothing restricting me from truly going wild this time. This made killing legal, so wasting every opportunity would be such a shame.

I paused when there was the sound of the door closing, it was very light but there was definitely an intruder. I glanced at the open door which seemed the same as usual, but I could sense a foreigner in my room...

My hunter instinct took over immediately and I stood up with a wide grin on my face.

I casually strode over and stroked my hand across the golden doorknob, smirking as my fingers wrapped around it, and I moved the door open in one swift movement. As expected there was nobody outside, but that wasn't the point - I knew where my victim was.

And as I snapped the door closed she lunged at me with a silver carving knife, knowing she had been caught. My hand grabbed onto Elise's hand as she tried to drive her knife through my skull, and though she struggled I was strong enough to stop her and pin her to the wall.

"Get off me!" She screamed as I clung on to her throat. Her knife fell to the ground through her struggling, prompting a laugh from me.

"Elise..." I watched as she squirmed uselessly. "Don't struggle. You might act tough but you're a thirteen year old girl, and we know that I'm ultimately stronger."

"I look innocent and pretty, I can use stealth," Elise babbled as my nails nipped into her skin, drawing small beads of blood. "I can kill in the arena."

"But oops... On the train you tripped over and had a little accident," I smirked and slammed her head against the wall so that I could make a point. Though Elise winced she seemed more nonplussed than hurt. "Dead people don't go to the arena Elise, only live children go there."

"You won't kill me now," Elise smirked. "Or are you that stupid?"

I laughed before leaning in close. "You have no idea... I've killed my father."

"I've killed both of my parents!" Elise shouted back, though she sounded more proud than angry. The revelation even shocked me, and my eyes widened as I let go of the squirming thirteen year old, trying to digest what I had just heard.

"You heard me," Elise stood up, grinning innocently at me whilst I towered over her. "I'm very schizophrenic, Cardinal... I'm an average thirteen year old, but sometimes I get so mad I could just... Kill someone."

I tried to retain my shock as the little girl shoved past me, giggling innocently as she skipped down the corridor singing an old District Nine folk song that even sent chills down my spine. I was a natural born killer - even the Careers didn't bother me. So why was it this little girl actually worried me?

* * *

**Naomi Lee, District 4, 16:**

"Okay, the second half of the reapings are going to be on in a minute," the chubby District Four escort Portia said solemnly as she looked at Blaine and I. "I know these are the District children but some of them could be talented - it was a District girl who won last year."

"No impressive Careers last year anyway," Blaine shrugged in his seat, looking bored. "There aren't any good ones this year too."

I had to disagree with him - the One and Two girls both seemed fierce and determined, whereas the boys - and Blaine - were tall, strong and deadly. And what did I look like? A cowering girl who shook on the stage, realising she was going to die in an arena.

My friend Ashlee was the Career who was chosen to volunteer by the Distict, but she admitted to me that she had cold feet the night before the reaping. Ironically I was the girl who was reaped just as Ashlee decided she wasn't ready to fight. Ashlee relentlessly apologised when she visited me in the Justice Building, and though I forgave her I knew I was going to die, full stop.

"Don't have that attitude," Portia snapped, the various sea shells she intertwined into her hair shook madly as she turned to face him. "Krindle and Selena were the best tributes I ever had, and look what happened to them. If two strong, geniune people die in the Games what is stopping you from dying too?"

Blaine opened his mouth to retort, but he could only open and close it uselessly like a fish. I actually felt sorry for him - something told me the guy had confidence issues. There was something about Portia that intrigued me; last year she was a bubbly escort and this time she was very serious. What had changed her like this?

I sat in silence, looking at the advertisements on the televisions for useless things such as skin insurance that were 'only five hundred credits' - only? Five hundred credits was enough for a house in District Four, and Capitolites were spending it on pathetic things like skin insurance? I bottled up my fury as the Capitol anthem blasted out of the television speakers, and the second part of the Reapings began.

District Seven came on, and I watched as the red head 'Veronica Vesna' went on to the stage. She was no competition; I saw the tracks of mascara that made their way down her cheeks, similar to the ones that went down mine. And then I gasped when the boy was called up; I didn't like to think I was superficial but he had a scar that covered half his face, and it truly looked monstrous.

The saw shaving littered streets of District Seven were quickly replaced by the sooty skies of District Eight, and a plain looking girl with mousy brown hair moved on to the stage. I tried to convince myself that she was like the others, but she didn't look shocked at all. Then the District Eight boy made his way on the stage, and there was something about him that was worrying - it wasn't the fact he had a leather jacket, but he looked really mysterious and shady. I could hear his mother sob in the background and I realised that though he seemed tough, he had a loving family too.

Why did I deserve to survive more than he did?

A terrified, young girl was reaped in District Nine and though I felt sorry for her as she wept it was a slight relief knowing that she'd be no competition, but the District Nine boy sent chills up my spine; he strode on to the stage with a sadistic grin and he even laughed as he was chosen - who the hell laughed about that?

I didn't want to know how mentally unstable he was, but I should've expected it. There was a loony every year.

District Ten broke the 'ladies first' tradition and a tall boy called Leonardo made his way to the stage. He was another tribute I felt sorry for - as soon as he was called up I could hear a few people crying, but that was to be expected. A small, chubby fourteen year old was called up as the District Ten female and though I didn't jump to any conclusions she did look like a typical bloodbath.

District Eleven dragged on, with a kind of tall girl being picked and a even taller, bulkier boy storming on to the stage. The girl didn't catch my eye but the boy did - he wasn't weak and fragile like most other District boys; that alone made him a contender.

And then the recaps climaxed with District Twelve and both of the tributes caught my eye in one way or another. The boy was tall, lanky and he had a sharp look in his eyes. I didn't know what it was, but his appearance automatically intrigued me. The Twelve girl was small and dainty and most tributes would've passed her off as a bloodbath, though I could definitely see a solid determination etched across her face.

The Reapings ending with a electric blue haired man talking to the Hunger Games announcer about his opinion on the tributes. Portia listened to a couple of nasty comments before she clicked the button that made the television flicker off.

"Well what tributes caught your eye?" She asked us.

"The One's and Two's, but they're nothing to worry about... I could finish them," Blaine smirked arrogantly whilst Portia frowned at him.

"The Five girl seems a bit off - I think she could kill, though I'm unsure if she has the strength," I said, counting the tributes in my head. "The Six girl looked tough. You saw the Seven guy with that scar... How did he get it?"

"He got it out of foolishness," Blaine stood up and dismissed me immediately. He continued talking as he moved over to the drinks tray. "I'm not scared of him."

"Don't let arrogance cloud your judgement Blaine," Portia's squeaky Capitol accent pierced the room as she followed after him. "Naomi is right..."

"And the Eight, Nine and Eleven boys all looked like competition," I said, watching as Blaine poured himself a creamy coloured beverage. "And both of the Twelve tributes too."

"Naomi - there's always a pattern with District Twelve tributes... They're walking corpses," Blaine calmly said before downing his alcoholic drink and pouring another blue coloured liquid out for himself. Portia watched him intently, looking disgusted at the amount he was consuming. "You don't have to worry about them."

"You're so judgemental," I said.

"Now, listen he-" Portia started talking, though she was immediately cut off by a disturbingly calm Blaine.

"I'm a good judge of character," Blaine smirked as he downed his second drink. "For example - remember your friend Ashlee? I knew she'd chicken out of volunteering when she knew she was competiting with me. Who wouldn't? I'm strong, fast, skilled, intelligent and quite good looking..."

"You wish," I snorted, shoving past Blaine and Portia and moving into my bedroom. I was furious because Ashlee was mentioned, but that fury quickly evaporated when I saw how amazing my room was; the carpets looked as if they were spun of gold, a crystalline chandelier hung off the ceiling and the walls seemed to have had gems of all sorts ground into them, making the whole room colourful and beautiful.

"Wow," I muttered. I moved over to my wardrobe and I was stunned further when I opened it - the wardrobe was bigger than my room at home, and it was packed full of clothes, shoes, beauty products and other accessories.

Compared to other girls I wasn't really bothered about clothes because they seemed almost trivial, but before my mother passed away she used to dress me up in the nicest dresses. I clung on to a velvet dress, taking a second to remember my mother - would she be proud of me now?

Probably not. I knew I had my flaws. I was insecure, selfish and manipulative at times. But I had my reasons; all I wanted was to love - to care about somebody and know that they cared me back. Now I knew that because I was in the Hunger Games that wasn't going to happen. When I was little my mother had always wanted me to win the Hunger Games and though I thought otherwise this accidental reaping could be my opportunity to make her happy.

As I moved into the golden bathroom to shower I tried to think up a strategy. Maybe my selfishness could be used to my advantage; I could wind my way into an alliance with the Careers and betray them around the Final Eight when the time was right. As I got into the shower I decided that though my plan was cliché it was good enough.

All I needed to do was find a way to wiggle myself into the Career alliance. I had done some Career training when I was younger because my mother wanted me to be a victor, I could swim extremely well and I was quite smart. Would they accept me for that? I hoped so.

With the click of a button the shower switched on, releasing jets of water and foam. I sighed with relief as I stepped into the large shower, allowing the scented water to soak me. Being from District Four I was a natural swimmer and I had an affinity with water; I had learnt to swim since a very early age and it was the only thing I could ever rely on if I went into the arena.

Give me a sea arena and I'd be the victor. I was even willing to bet that I could out-swim the 'perfect', conceited Blaine. Though they hadn't used a water arena in years, so chances were I'd be sent into a forest or something.

I stepped out of the shower and immediately missed the feeling of water raining against my body. I wrapped a towel around me with my thoughts on my brother Pat, and how his eyes brimmed with tears during our final goodbyes. If I was fighting to see anyone it would be him, seeing as I didn't have the steadiest relationship with my father.

"Naomi!" Portia rapped on the door to my bedroom. I caught a flash of my blue eyes in the mirror before I raked my token (a butterfly pin) through my short brown hair. There was another pause and Portia knocked on the door again more impatiently. "Naomi!"

"Okay, okay," I shouted, making sure that my towel was wrapped around me more securely before opening the door to the plump escort, who was looking at me with a sensitive smile.

"Your survival mentor is here," she said. "I'm sure you know this but it's procedure to tell you - your mentor isn't a previous victor, only an artist of survival-"

"He can't help me then," I said casually, leaning against the door frame whilst observing my escort. "I want someone who'll tell me what the Careers are like, what the emotional scarring is like or what killing somebody is like."

"You need to know how to survive," Portia quipped as a door down the corridor opened. A much taller figure appeared behind the small mentor and I immediately knew that the arrogant idiot was with us.

"I can learn how to survive off a few manuals," I said, allowing my selfish side to take over. I knew it was part of Portia's job to make sure arrangements went smoothly but I didn't owe anything to her - she was the reason I was here anyway. "I want a proper mentor, but District Four doesn't have any of those, does it?"

"It will next year," Blaine commented cockily as Portia gave me an angry look.

"Fine," Portia said neutrally. "I'll tell him that you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you because you have a big day tomorrow."

Blaine smirked, showing off his dazzling teeth as Portia stormed back down the corridor so that she could address the 'mentor.' I glared at Blaine one last time, attempting to close the door on him, though he lodged his strong legs in the way.

"Go away," I muttered, attempting to slam the door on his leg again.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said charmingly, showing off his pearly teeth again.

"How convenient," I smiled falsely back. "I don't want to talk to you."

I attempted to close the door, though Blaine forced him momentum onto the door and I was knocked back on to the carpet. I leant up and rubbed my head, knowing that Blaine's strength advantage was worrisome.

"You were right, that 'mentor' only told me the basic survival stuff," Blaine smirked as he hoisted me to my feet. I angrily tied my towel around my body tightly and glared at him.

"I don't like you Blaine, you're arrogant, you're cruel," I moved closer to him so that I could feel his hot breath on mine whilst my blue eyes clashed with his startling hazel eyes, though they almost appeared golden. "And quite frankly you're competition."

"And a potential ally," Blaine said, moving closer towards me. If I hated the tribute in front of me so much why did I find my pulse race closer as he moved forwards? "I don't know why... But I think you can bring something to the table for the Careers."

"Why do you think that?" I smirked as Blaine's soft fingertips stroked my cheeks. I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, though my lips felt frozen with the adrenaline of being in a heated argument with the most desired boy of District Four.

And then his hot lips pressed against mine. I was hesitant to respond for a second, but it quickly hit me that this was what could work to my advantage - Blaine was my biggest competition, and he was here kissing me. I could manipulate him easily... I could get into the Career alliance! With those thoughts in my head (and the reassurance that Blaine was attractive) I kissed Blaine back enthusiastically, moving my arms around his neck.

And then I moved away when Blaine's hands wandered up my body. There was a suppressed desire inside of me, though I quickly ignored it. I would give up so much to let my strategy go to plan, but I wasn't going to sacrifice my dignity.

"Is something up?" Blaine asked while I looked down, still stunned from the kiss.

"No Blaine..." I paused and listened out for Portia before talking. "I like you but I'm not going to..."

"These could be your last days," Blaine's arms moved around my hips enthusiastically. "Might as well make the most of them..."

"No," I muttered, shoving him away lightly before glaring at him. "No Blaine. These are not going to be my last few days... I... I can't let that happen."

Blaine's masculine, square jaw tightened and the atmosphere automatically became thick and tense. "Fine. I get it... But that kiss, we're cool... Right?"

"Yes," I said whilst biting my lip nervously, knowing that Blaine was still a lot of use to me - he was my key to winning. "We're cool."

Blaine smiled unenthusiastically before he quickly strode out of the room, making sure to slam the door behind him so hard the chandelier trembled. I breathed out a sigh of relief before flopping onto my violet bed, knowing that though I intended to use Blaine he definitely intended to use me too.

* * *

**Next set of tributes! Also this is a reminder, people seem worried about tributes and the bloodbath. Want your tribute to survive the bloodbath? REVIEW.**

**Yes, I am review obsessed but I also think your tributes life and my reviews are fair payment. And if you don't have a tribute in the Games telling me your favourite tributes will help them survive too, so click that button :)**

**_~Toxic_  
**

_Capitol Commentator Question: What do you think of these two tributes?_

Interview Question: Do you have a favourite way of travelling? Funnily enough I like trains.


	6. The Sidelines

**Jynx Blackthorne, District 2 Mentor:**

* * *

I walked down the corridor of the train whilst beaming and stroking my hair, which had been freshly dyed into it's old violent purple colour. In front of me the annoying District Two girl glided, her face transparent and ghostly. She told me about how I had to help my tributes survive, be kind, sincere and all that jazz.

I had mentored before the Capitol had taken me in, and it was safe to say that I hated it. I loved being a victor, but I hated the prospect of mentoring. I just hated kids and hormonal teenagers.

"So these are my tributes?" I faked a smile before looking at the tall, devious looking Archimedes and the stone faced Melanthe. Like a mother fawning over a baby I pinched both of their cheeks and giggled, knowing Melanthe's furious expression made acting like an idiot worth it.

"Aren't they darlings?" Their escort Fi-Fi sighed, stroking her hands through her long silver hair.

"Good fighters," I said honestly, knowing that Archimedes was a natural born killer whereas Melanthe was a born survivor - whether she knew it or not. I glanced seriously at the both of them before snapping my fingers and ordering a food tray. "Tell me darlings, who do you see as the competition?"

"The One tributes, the Four boy, the Six girl, the Seven boy, the Nine boy and the Twelve boy," Archimedes recited a mental list he had made in his head. "Obviously that's from a brief television appearance... We'll see more of them in time."

A tribute who wasn't quick to judge? I smirked as a tall Avox boy wheeled in a golden cart full of delectable treats. I smirked as I grabbed a strawberry in my hands, before looking at the girl. "And who are you looking out for?"

"I'm not telling you anything," the girl said frostily. So we had a feisty tribute? My purple lips curled into a smirk and I knew that though she didn't have the Career ambition I saw she had a lot of her own determination.

"And why is that dear?" I said, tearing my teeth into the flesh of the strawberry. The girl's familiar blue eyes averted into a glare that made me even more intrigued.

"You heard my name called out at the Reaping, didn't you?" Melanthe leant up, and though her height didn't compare to mine she made sure to make herself seem taller. "Melanthe Hathaway."

My mind knew the surname Hathaway, and I thought back to all my previous memories. I thought back to the District Two victor, the one who I had fought three years ago. I gasped when I realised that the dying eyes I looked exactly like the eyes I was looking into; the irony of the situation even made me chuckle.

"Do you find that funny?" Melanthe asked as her face contorted with rage.

"Just ironic," I giggle, grabbing a handful of grapes from a bowl. As I clawed at the grapes Melanthe glared at me again, trembling with rage.

"It isn't funny," she said, her voice cracking with anger.

"No, of course not, it's hysterical. Want a grape? They've been polished."

"If you don't shut up I'll polish your face," Melanthe threatened me as I moved another grape into my mouth. I certainly felt sorry for the kid, but what made her mother's life more important than mine?

"Can I acquaint you with a nice old friend I like to call vodka?" I asked Melanthe, trying not to giggle.

"I'll acquaint you with something else,"

"Or a lovely box of chocolates?"

"I've been put off boxes ever since you sent my mother home in one," Melanthe said through gritted teeth.

"Are you making a point or are you going to be sarcastic all day?" I smirked and moved to the back of the tray so that I could pour myself a glass of wine. "Why did you volunteer, anyway?"

"I volunteered to show the Capitol that they didn't own me," Melanthe admitted to herself, pausing to bite her own lip. "They're tore my family apart and now I need to defy them in one way or another."

I giggled as I poured some wine. "Really? For someone who seems quite rational you made a very stupid mistake that might just get you-"

My sentence was cut off and I had little time to react as the feisty girl stood up and forced the trolley forwards so that it rammed into my body. The wine glass in my hand slipped to the floor, but before the trolley crushed me into the wall my hand held onto the trolley and I flung it to the side as if the solid gold was weightless.

Melanthe quickly reacted by holding on to a butchers knife that had fallen to the ground, and she quickly swiped at me with it. Though her slashes were quick and skilled I could dodge her with ease. Eventually Fi-Fi managed to cling on to a struggling Melanthe, and the furious girl was dragged out of the room.

I glanced at the food and smashed glass that littered the floor before I looked up to an amused Archimedes.

"Is she a Career?" I asked Archimedes whilst a group of Avox's flooded in to clean the mess. A second later I noticed that the girl had managed to inflict a small gash on my palm, but nothing too serious.

"I don't remember seeing her," Archimedes said, before saying exactly what I was thinking. "She's had basic training, I can tell from her reflexes; the way she held and handled that knife in an offensive manner."

"Yes, maybe she thought that she could rely on that to fight - maybe her mother taught her other things," I shrugged. Her mother was a great victor, and so was her sister too. "But her attacks... They're too predictable and spontaneous. I'd watch out Archie, she's a clever girl-"

"But her emotions shroud her inner intelligence," Archimedes finished my sentence for me. I never expected myself to be fond of any meathead Careers, but who'd have known? Melanthe may have been a very angry girl who couldn't take criticism, but I secretly liked her too.

She obviously didn't like me though. Oopsie.

* * *

**Portia Rhymes, District Four Escort:**

The large television flickered on and I watched the Gamemaker interviews intently with a note-pad in hand so I could take any notes if they hinted towards something. Outside my window flecks of sunset danced across the room, telling me that we were approaching the nighttime.

It was weird fighting for my tributes survival, but it had to be done. I usually had a group of mentors to help me assist my tributes, but they had all died years ago - it was just me. My job wasn't just creating schedules and teaching my tributes etiquette. It was serious, teaching somebody how to survive.

Usually District Four tributes didn't need any survival tips anyway, but neither Krindle nor Selena had survived, and they were my favourite tributes ever. And if you asked me the Four girl needed advice; she was stubborn and determined but she was untrained and unsure.

"Thank you Alexia," I said as a mousy haired Avox came into the room with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Alexia smiled lightly before rushing out of the room, and I focused on the television where Tobias Harte was being interviewed.

"So Tobias, what can you tell us about the arena?" A journalist practically screamed, jamming her microphone into Tobias' face.

Though he looked uncomfortable Tobias smiled anyway. "I'm not saying anything, but it's a big twist on the most unoriginal arena you could imagine."

I frowned, grabbing my pen and jotting down 'forest' onto the notepad. Everybody knew that a forest was the most unoriginal arena - it had been used over one-hundred and fifty times, but Tobias obviously had something in store. He had only been a Head Gamemaker for a couple of years but I knew he had the imagination of a young child, and when he said 'big twist' he certainly meant it.

"Tobias, Tobias!" The reporter wouldn't let him go, and she grabbed onto his shoulder as he turned to leave. "Is there anything else you can tell us? What tributes have caught your eye?"

Tobias continued walking, though he answered mysteriously. "As usual the Careers are all being sponsored the most because they're the ones who volunteered, but I have looked at all of their data and I can promise you that not one tribute will bore you."

That sentence made me raise my eyebrow. Blaine seemed like a normal Career and they were always moderately entertaining, but what about Naomi? She seemed like a shy, average girl but was that all she was?

I stood up slowly so that my high heels couldn't slow me down and with a fake smile I walked to Naomi's room, rapping on the door and talking in a faux cheery tone.

"Oh Naomi!" I sang. "Open the door!"

As usual there was a wait before Naomi opened the door, and when it opened I saw an innocent girl with a blotchy face. I smiled at Naomi, though she only looked as miserable as ever.

"I've just come here to ask if you wanted hot chocolate," I improvised. For some strange reason I felt the need to give this girl a hug, but why? "And have you been crying dear?"

"Yes," Naomi whispered, making sure that Blaine wasn't around to see her in an emotional state. "I have been crying."

"Why?" Was all I managed to squeak out. Was this girl hurt or injured? That would just be the worst of luck.

"Not every tribute volunteers to go into the Games," Naomi told me, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Some of us are taken in by the government, forced to fight to the death."

"I know that... But..." I paused, before looking at the girl. "The Capitol emphasise that becoming a tribute in the Games is the highest honour-"

"Dying isn't the highest honour," Naomi said, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. "I don't want to die... I... I want a big house by the beach... And I want to become a life-guard or a marine biologist if I ever had..."

"But fate wants you to be a victor," I told Naomi, hugging her and patting her back. "Don't you believe you can win?"

"Not really," Naomi muttered before pulling away and looking at me seriously. "Portia... I... You... You don't get it. I don't blame you... It's been raised into you... But... Goodnight."

And then the door closed on my face, leaving me to stand there as the silence was only broken by the sound of the train zooming through the air. My entire career I had worked with strong volunteers who were more than happy about going into the Games, but Krindle and Selena seemed miserable. Naomi seemed miserable. Was there something I was missing?

I walked past Blaine's room, ignoring the sound of whatever classical music he was blasting. When I got into my own door I slammed it harshly as I strode through the threshold of my own private quarters. The television was the only source of light that flickered across the wooden floorboards whilst being reflected in the glassy windows.

My hand automatically grabbed an old telephone and I dialled my daughter's phone number. I wanted to ask her so much; I wanted to question the Hunger Games to someone else for the first time in my life, but I knew that this room and all the phone lines were probably bugged by Peacekeeper security.

"Hello?" Porceina asked, the sound of her tired voice making me smile. My teenage daughter was actually going to sleep at a decent time?

"Porceina, it's mum," I said down the phone, trying to find the right words to ask the question I wanted to ask. "I'm just getting ready to go to bed... You're really going to love the tributes I've got."

"Cool," I could practically hear Porceina's lips curl up into a grin. "So why are you calling? Is something up?"

"No... Nothing is up... I just..." I looked out of the window, watching as grey mountains passed us in one big blur. "Are you proud of me?"

There was a pause before Porceina giggled and spoke. "Don't be silly... Of course I'm proud of you!"

There was something about her words that hit me in the heart, and though I smiled I felt my eyes fighting back tears as I spoke to my daughter. If she was so proud of me, why wasn't I proud of myself?

* * *

**Contessa Franken, District 5 Escort:**

I placed the party hat on just about every single Avox in the room, making sure that their trays of party rings and other goods were stacked. The President said that as an escort I had to make my tributes enjoy their experience, so I was going to make them happy whilst indulging in alcohol and good music.

The Avoxes lead in two District Five tributes I had; they weren't exactly marvellous Careers but I was happy that they weren't hopeless cases either. The girl was tall and slender, with curious eyes that resembled an owl. The boy was somewhat short with a muscular frame and tan skin; nothing special, but good enough.

"Hello tributes!" I giggled, hopping to them and pinching their cheeks to their chagrin. "I have decided to spoil you for your... Bad fortune... And I'm holding a party! Hooray!"

With a click of my fingers the Avoxes sprinkled confetti over the tributes before doing jazz hands, as they were told. I giggled and clapped my palms together loudly whilst the girl glared at me.

"I'm not one for parties," she told me, blowing the confetti out of her dull hair.

"Me neither," the boy mumbled. "I kind of intended on sleeping..."

"You have the next few days to sleep," I said. In a second my favourite tune came on and I danced to the electrical beat, giggling and clapping enthusiastically. "Come on! Party!"

Everyone else in the room watched me with wide eyes as I jived to the great techno music, and when I realised that nobody else was partying I switched the music off and poured myself a strong drink.

"Are you not a fan of two-delta-zero-hawk?" I asked whilst gulping down the strong liquid. "They're like... The best band ever! Whenever their song 'Party time' comes on I just want to... Party!"

"We're supposed to be fighting for our lives," the boy said defensively with clenched fists. "Can't you help us?"

The girl observed me under her large, protuberant eyes before she turned on her heel. She slammed the door behind her just as the talking fish had been carted into the room by an elderly Avox man - what a shame! She'd have loved it!

"Contessa... Is everything okay?" The boy asked defensively as I poured myself another glass of something strong. I felt the alcoholic concoction go straight to my head and I giggled slightly as the tipsyness came into effect.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" I giggled to the teenager.

"Well... Rayann," he mumbled as the fish behind us started giggling and insulting my hair, not that it was bad to begin with. "She was the victor last year and you mentored her, right?"

"Yes, what an underdog," I giggled as I snatched a party ring from a tray. "She was good alright... Born to survive! Unfortunately she decided that she had to end it herself..."

"Did you give her any advice?" The boy asked again, looking at me more seriously.

"No," I hiccoughed. "What do you want me to do? Pretend it's all happy?" I grabbed a ham sandwich from the plate before looking at the boy seriously. "There are no happy endings, this party is the happiest it gets."

"So you have no advice?" The boy asked.

"Do I have to say no to you a million times?" I asked, flailing my arms hysterically so that precious alcohol had sloshed to the floor. "Count your chances - one in twenty four. Add the fact the Careers can slaughter you then... Yep, you're going to die."

The boy's fists tightened defensively. "That's not true."

"But it is!" I giggled manically before leaning down so that I could reach the boys height. He was naturally taller than me, but they did invent high heels for a reason. "You're District Five. The research and genetics District... The nerds! Nobody survives. Rayann was an exception, and even she topped herself!"

"Don't be so cruel," the boy whispered as his tanned face seemed to turn into a dangerous maroon colour.

"Just party and forget your troubles," I smirked, saying the genius lyrics of the song I loved so much. The boy obviously didn't appreciate them, as his strong arms lashed out as shoved me forwards. I screamed loudly as I was forced into an Avox and the boy glared at me while prawns rained down on me from a fallen platter.

"You horrible bitch!" He screamed, and I yelped as his curled fist slammed itself into a mirror. Then it hit me that a boy with such strength and aggression really could win the Games, despite his lack of charm or manners. "You don't have any hope for me do you? No kindness or sympathy?"

"Somebody get me aspirin," I muttered to one of the Avoxes who had hoisted me to my feet as the boy continued to rant. He could let out his frustration on a tribute, but I couldn't care less about him.

"Well you watch Contessa... Because you won't hear the end of me," he muttered this time whilst his eyes turned watery. "I have family to return to, and I promised them I'd get back. Your impudence isn't going to stop that."

The boy then stormed out of the room whilst slamming the door behind him so harshly powdered dust spread out of hidden crevices, polluting the small room. I tried to regain my composure but I was interrupted by an Avox who shoved the pills in my hand with a hopeful smile.

"Thank you," I muttered whilst my green hand touched my pounding forehead. "Now I need some more light humour - can somebody get me a glass of wine, and when it's handed to me I want tap dancers!"

* * *

**Edoire Gazette, District 7 Escort:**

"And you really, really have to tell me why afros are in fashion," Violet continued blabbing as she sipped her mug of warm tea. "I mean like... I know everyone totally has one but... They just don't look good."

I patted my own mane of curls, attempting to not look affronted as the red head in front of me smiled. I had gotten on well with Violet; I wiped away her make-up when it went runny, comforted her when she cried and talked to her about fashion but it just wasn't enough.

I could say that the District Seven girl was fashion mad, but that would've been a bit of an understatement. All she talked to me about what what fashionable - and she wanted to know every reason why. Why was thin in? Why is lilac skin nice? What's the political reason behind it?

Not that she knew what political meant; Violet was an inquisitive girl but she wasn't the brightest child, and I hoped that her lack of common sense didn't get her killed.

"Violet - I think you should have some beauty sleep," I told the young girl. "You have to go to the remake centre for your make-over!"

There was a pause and Violet looked into the burning fire in the grate, taking in its warmth before she looked at me with a dumb smile on her made up face. "I totally get it, but I'm way too excited. Can I stay for another hour, please?"

"Okay," I sighed. I almost wished that Violet was like her District partner; he was sullen and quiet, and once he saw the Reapings recap all he did was drink a large bottle of champagne and lie around in his room. On the bright side Violet's bubbly nature and undying need to appease people would get her much more sponsors in the Pre Game period, I was sure of it.

"We're not going to be lumberjacks are we?" Violet asked me as she cuddled herself into the couch, trying to soak in the heat of the burning embers near her.

"I don't know, ask your stylist," I said.

"I hope not," Violet smiled warmly at me, and there was a twinkle in her green eyes. "I think the whole lumberjack thing is really unfashionable. I'd love to be a beautiful, towering tree with juicy green fol... Fol... What's that fancy word for leaves?"

"Foliage."

"Yeah, foliage," Violet smiled warmly. "You know what? I wish that the chariot rides were just one big catwalk so that we tributes can strut our stuff... Although I've never really been good at the modelling stuff, and I'm not a midget or anything but I'm totally not tall enough to be a catwalk model."

"Oh, you seem like you want to be in the fashion industry," I smiled and patted Violet's back reassuringly. "I know loads of people in the style industry! I'd let you meet them if I could!"

Violet smiled, and I could even see the hint of a blush behind her make-up. "Thanks... But I've never wanted to be a model... I've wanted to be a designer, a fashion designer."

There was a pause and the only sound was the flames eating the wood in the fireplace, sending an orange glow across the hearth. The moment was awkward as I knew that Violet's dreams could never come true: she was from the Districts, and only one in a million District citizens could get a job in the Capitol. And Violet had been called as a tribute for the Games eight hours ago. Eight hours ago she became a competitor and -more importantly - a tribute.

In three weeks she'd either be a corpse in a coffin or (if she beat the odds) a victor showered in riches, and a girl who would be too busy giving interviews or mentoring new tributes to design clothes for Panem to enjoy.

"Maybe you could design some clothes to go with my hair," I said brightly.

"That isn't going to happen though, is it?" Violet smiled weakly before she twirled her fingers around her red hair nervously. "I mean... I'm going into the Games, aren't I?"

"But-"

"You don't get it," Violet butted in as her lip trembled. She turned around and clung on to me desperately. "I'm going in Edoire. You picked my name and I'm going to die... And there's nothing you can do, is there?"

"No," I admitted reluctantly.

Violet paused, taking in my words slowly. Soon her lip trembled and tears began to flood out of her eyes, sending a black river of liquified make-up down her face. I watched as the innocent girl sobbed in front of me and for the first time ever I felt helpless - there was nothing that I could do.

"I'm going to help you," I told Violet, and I patted her back tentatively. "That's what I'm here for... I want to help you Violet. And when you get out there you're going to be introduced to me friend Alixandre - he's a fashion designer!"

Violet smiled weakly, though the tears still spilt from her face. The train was probably taking this young girl to her death and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

"Thanks Edoire, I think I'll go to bed now," Violet said, dabbing at her smudged eyes with a tissue. "I should've used my common sense and brought waterproof mascara for the Reaping day..."

And then she bounced off the seat and she ran into the bedroom. I waved Violet goodbye with a cheery smile, and as soon as I heard her bedroom door close my chirpy facade immediately disappeared. I loved the Games and my job but for the first time I wished I had picked a different girl's name.

* * *

**Were you expecting this? ;)**

**I wanted to do twelve chapters for the tributes but I realised that the last pre-games chapter would've been chapter 13, and I'm irrationally superstitious.**

**So yes, there'll be intervals like this - from other people's POV!**

**_~Toxic_**

_Capitol Commentator Question: Out of all the tributes so far do you have a favourite?_

Interview Question: Do you blame Capitolian citizens for supporting the Hunger Games or do you forgive them because they've been manipulated by the media?


	7. The Styling

**Callis Carlson, District 5, 15:**

* * *

The breakfast table was eerily silent when I arrived. My District partner sat alone at the end of the table whilst she picked away at some raspberries fussily. I moved towards one of the chairs, sitting down awkwardly whilst the girl in front of me barely acknowledged my assistant.

"Where's Contessa?" I asked the girl.

"Hungover I suppose," the girl muttered emptily, jabbing at a random piece of meat before wrinkling her nose when the fat leaked out. "The alcohol would've dehydrated her brain, and the brain shrinks when it's dehydrated... So as you can imagine the morning after isn't very pleasant."

"Do you think she'll be alright?" I asked. I felt sorry for Contessa after I snapped the other day, and I kind of hoped the older girl in front of me didn't hear any of the commotion.

"I don't really care, she's an idiot."

I glanced at my District partner and I automatically got a really bad vibe from her. Her empty eyes and expressions as well as her seemingly high intelligence worried me, but I should have expected an intelligent District partner to begin with; many of District Five's residents were rather intelligent people - scientists. Since I worked part time in a machinery moving job I had managed to develop a strong build, and I knew I could win this girl in a physical fight but I never underestimated a person's intelligence.

I sat in silence as the train continued rolling through lush green fields, though unlike the girl in front of me I wasn't paying much attention to the scenery - my gaze was directed at the friendship bracelet that was tied firmly to my wrist.

I missed my best friends. Atalia and Handell, the people I had known since a young age. They were great people who I could always seek solace in. But there was no solace now because I was hundreds of miles from District Five, there was no-one to talk to. That shocking realisation made me pause and think; the people I cared about now were going to sit and watch me die on television. I wished I got more time with my family and my adoptive parents, just so I could've let them know how much I appreciated their constant generosity.

Avalynn seemed to notice the hint of tears in my eyes and she glanced at me curiously underneath her wire rimmed glasses. There was a moment of silence before she looked at the scenery outside the window with a gasp.

I wondered what marvel would've made the silent girl show any sign of emotion, but when I turned to look at the window my jaw immediately felt unhinged. The colourful Capitolian city was stretched out right in front of us. We passed through a tunnel made out of platinum and emerald before the train came to an abrupt halt.

Contessa walked into the room, wearing a strange dress made out of pine leaves so that the clothing she wore complimented her green skin. She tousled her black and white hair so that it was extra curly before she looked at us.

"Sorry about that darlings, I was recovering," she said. I was thankful that she didn't remember our conflict the previous night because of her drunken haze. "This is it - this is the Capitol. You shall be escorted to the remake centre with me."

Her strong arms grabbed Ava and I and Contessa casually dragged us to the train's exit with an excited grin.

"I've always wanted to be here," Ava smiled, her voice trembling with excitement. "My mother and father's creations are used here... This is the city where science and logic meet no limit!"

So Avalynn's parents were inventors of a sort. I didn't expect anything less.

"Science is dull in the Capitol," Contessa grabbed the handle of the door and she smiled at a slightly irritated Ava. "They do teach it in school though - like... Magnets. The north pole goes to the south pole or something. Okay, lets move on! Oh, and prepare yourself for the lights."

I realised that Contessa should've warned us earlier when the train doors opened. My retinas were immediately attacked by knives of flashing blue light and the sound of screaming Hunger Games fanatics all melded together into one deafening shout.

Contessa lead us through the pathway to the remake centre so quickly it was apparent that the blinding light didn't affect her. Though everything was a blur I realised that Ava and I were fortunate, as the adoring fans were cut off by a translucent electromagnetic wall.

They still decided to shout ridiculous questions at us though.

"Callis what's your favourite colour?"

"Ava! Ava! Where did you get your glasses?"

"How to you think District Five will cope in the Games, and is it strange knowing that one of you have to die?"

An indescribable fury immediately started boiling inside of me as the cameras flashed on. These questions were insensitive and inhumane. Why did the Capitol act like they adored me when they were secretly screaming for my blood? I wanted to lash out at them all.

"Be nice," Contessa told me when she noticed my annoyed expression. Avalynn looked pretty irritated too. "Tributes that lash out at the paps always get a bad media backlash, and you don't want that."

I didn't care about a media backlash. I liked to think that I was a nice person, but I was very easily stung or angered and my defensiveness could lead me to a bad temper. Luckily, before my contained anger spilt out we were lead into a luxurious building that was obviously the remake centre. We were moved into the lobby of the centre and Contessa went off with a smirk, telling us that our stylists would collect us when the time was right. Ava and I sat on some comfortable looking chairs and I angrily thought of Contessa's nastiness.

"She's probably gone to get drunk," Ava told me casually. "She shows signs of alcoholism."

"I just thought she was a boozehound," I joked. Ava smiled weakly, though I knew she didn't mean it - she was just being polite. I appreciated that to a degree, but overall she was still pretty closed off. I considered having her in an alliance, that would be pretty good; I was strong and she was smart. Yin and yang. Brains and brawn.

We'd make the perfect team.

"Ava..." I twiddled my thumbs awkwardly as I spoke. "Do yo-"

"No," Ava said bluntly.

"Wha-" I tried talking again, but Ava replied as if she knew exactly what I was going to say.

"You were going to ask me to form an alliance with you," she said matter of factly. "And I already have a planned strategy. I work better solo."

"So y-"

"No, I definitely don't," Ava rejected harshly, adjusting her glasses so that they covered her eyes better. I sat in a stunned silence; I wasn't used to rejection and thinking about how inconsiderate my District partner was made me angry. The seconds ticked by before Ava was picked up by a group of giggling idiots - her prep team.

I stood alone in the corridor and I looked at a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair. She had a high-tech phone pressed to her ears and she spoke into it sharply, sounding quite furious.

"The District Five tributes are here. And if the District Six tributes aren't here by their assigned time heads will roll," she said nastily. "No Tobias, you're being too generous. Coal shortage? Coal shortage? I doubt it!"

I watched her for a second, wondering who this woman was. She seemed quite bossy and empty, and she smiled weakly at me once she realised I was in the room. Though as soon as she saw me her smile turned into anger and she spoke into the phone again.

"Tobias, tell the stylists to step on it - the Five boy is left in the corridor like a stray dog," she let the person through the phone talk before sounding impatiently angry. "I am the deputy head Gamemaker, remember? You're being ridiculous, you agreed with the whole Rayann thing and now you're doing this!"

My ears pricked up immediately. What seemed like a normal phone conversation had suddenly become eavesdropping gold. I tried to keep a neutral expression, though I knew that there was something going on behind the scenes. Rayann was dead, so why were the Gamemakers talking about her?

But before I could hear anything else numerous arms clung onto my wrists. I knew that my years of lifting had made me strong but I couldn't resist the numerous stylists combined strength. I tried to say something out loud, but before I knew it I was dragged out into a large white corridor.

"Hello Callis," a blue haired woman smiled; her lips were so artificial they looked like icing and a disgusted frown found its way on my face. "My name is Wynter, and I am one of your stylists."

"What?" Was all I managed to blab out before the four strange girls practically threw me onto a comfortable leather chair. The force of being lashed into the chair made the breath ram out of my body and the three girls giggled.

"Oh, poor Callis," one of them tutted.

"Hm, what would you rate him out of ten?"

"Eight! Look at those muscles!"

"Average face though, and quite short... I think I'd go with a five," a green haired woman observed me sagely. "Would you agree?"

"Who cares girls!" The smallest and squeakiest one with blonde hair clapped before she shot me a hungry look. "Once we're done with this fine specimen he'll be absolutely beautiful."

Looking around at the four women with multicoloured hair made my vision seem so iridescent, and for the brief second I just sat there confused. Eventually I managed to summon up the courage to talk to these strange, multicoloured women.

"W-who are you?"

"Well," the blue hair one chimed. "I'm Wynter."

"I'm Summa!" The blonde haired one giggled happily.

"I'm Awtum!" The orange haired one twirled around melodramatically with an extremely unattractive pout.

"And I'm Springg!"

"After the four seasons?" I asked, feeling a lurking sense of doom settle inside the pit of my stomach. The stylists were obviously all named after the seasons and that was never a good sign. Ever. The brewing worry only continued frothing when I saw the tools that the stylists were equipped with. Tools wasn't even the right word - surgical instruments described them better.

"Okay, get Callis all ready for mother," Wynter said, giving me an icy smile. Before I knew it two of the strange stylist sisters grabbed my clothes and tore them off in one fluid movement. I cried out in shock, trying to cling on to the bare bits of skin that I didn't want exposed.

I had always been a defensive person. I had friends who I talked to but usually I kept things to myself; I enjoyed my privacy. And in a brief second the Hunger Games decides to take my privacy away by forcing me to appear in front of four women naked. Naturally I was quite angry, though I followed the only piece of advice that Contessa had given me - keep calm and let the stylists do what they had to do.

But it only got worse. My nakedness seemed more prominent when Summa decided to pour hot oil over my bare skin so that my whole body was exposed with a glowing sheen. The 'cleansing oils' soon followed with hot scalding water that went all over my back so that it sent waves of pain into my skin.

"Argh," I muttered with gritted teeth. I knew that since I had a rough upbringing I was one of the stronger District Five boys but the pain was almost unbearable even for me - it almost made me wonder how the weaker District Five boys had fared.

"Oh, lighten up," Awtum scolded me when she saw my grimace. She proceeded to grab a sharp razor from her 'styling tray' and her grin was almost malicious. "It's only styling."

"Yeah..." I tried talking but I could only blabber. Why the hell did these Capitol people use razors? Was slicing people open the new fashion over there? My heart thudded as the razor equipped stylists rushed over to me.

And then they slid the razor down my legs, cutting away any hair that they could. The process was much less painful than I had predicted but I still felt my heart freeze every time a blade swiped itself down my skin. Soon somebody would use one of their blades to stab me or maim me instead of styling me; I didn't know if that made this whole experience more or less scary.

I actually yelped when the stylists used some sticky paper stuff to yank the excess body hair on my chest and stomach out. The pain was almost unbearable and tears began to form in my eyes, though the stylists reassured me that it would make me look good.

Why did the stylists all do this? Why did the Capitol torture themselves like this just so they could be aesthetically pleasing? It baffled me.

By the time they were done they all moved away like vultures that had stripped every string of flesh from a carcass. As they dispersed the multicoloured women all grinned at me whilst they admired their sickening handiwork.

"Our mother is going to love this," one of them chimed as she rubbed her light blue hands together.

"Is your mother the stylist?" I asked, grabbing a towel and tying it around my waist as quickly as possible so that I didn't appear so naked and fragile to these eccentric women.

"Yes! Her name is Deedri Locknet!" Springg giggled, clapping her hands together enthusiastically. I could tell from the girls' expectant looks that they wanted me to be trembling with excitement, but I sat there looking at them indifferently.

"I don't know her," I said bluntly. Usually the Games' fashion designers were big celebrities, but mine wasn't - that meant that she was going to be atrocious or great, and I certainly hoped for the latter.

"You should!" The girls chorused, waggling a finger at me patronisingly. "Well... She styled the gowns for Renini Manova for her soap opera 'life under the Capitol sun' - do you watch that?"

"Nope," I muttered. My adoptive family were very middle class, but even they were too busy working to spend their time watching silly soap operas or anything of the sort.

"Well she designed the District Ten costumes last year," Summa grinned sheepishly, hoping I'd acknowledge her 'celebrity' mother. Though I still didn't know the designer I thought back to the tributes - Monk and Blaise.

Both of those two were the jokes of the night, being dressed up in chicken costumes to blasting speakers that emitted farm animal noises. For the tenth or eleventh time since the Reaping I felt my heart slowly crawl into my stomach.

Perfect. Just perfect.

* * *

**Tarren Keenan, District 8, 15:**

"That's us done, then," a woman with electric blue hair squeaked as she grabbed onto the last patch of hair she could find. With her waxing tools she viscously yanked it all away, and I gasped in pain as my prep team scurried out of the room giggling idiotically.

The silence was as beautiful as always. The sound of silence was my favourite sound; nothing but me and my thoughts to occupy me, but my thoughts were currently fixed on the pain and humiliation I had just endured. That alone was enough to make the tears spill.

My hands clung onto my light brown hair as I curled myself up into a ball and rocked back and forth. I tried to forget the whole experience of styling but - like the Reaping - it was a bad memory that refused to leave my mind. Tears stung at my eyes as I remembered how the stylists stripped me, changed me and molested me.

I had never been a social child. I hated talking to people who I hardly knew and - though I tried - I had little to no empathy for others. Some were quick to judge me and they liked to call me shy or selfish, but I had Aspergers syndrome. Aspergers was a condition that was similar to autism. Though I was stereotypically antisocial I liked things to go as planned, I didn't like spontaneity or things not going according to schedule and the day was not working to schedule.

Apart from the fact that I had been pinned down, sheared and scrubbed raw by my stylists it still bugged me whenever I looked at the clock that was threateningly ticking on the wall - three hours ago I was supposed to read the new book on fundamental particles that I had bought and if I was at home I'd be eating my dinner at this very second.

And that (along with imminent doom) was a bit annoying.

After gaining the courage to stand up I put on a robe so that I didn't have to withstand the sight of my Capitolised body. I glanced in the mirror and felt some kind of disgust when I saw myself.

Apart from on my head there wasn't the slightest trace of hair on my body. Where there had been hair there was only smooth skin that was red raw from being scrubbed harshly. I was a very hygienic person who showered and preened a lot, but seeing my nails be cut at an exact length or noticing my polished head hair made me feel kind of ill. This was so strange and unnatural.

"Beautiful, aren't you?" A deep voice behind me said. I tried to not recoil as the man's fingers held on to my shoulder. He was my stylist - he was here to help.

The stylist slowly lead me to the chair and I followed him, sitting down without a word just as he had instructed. I didn't want to talk to this man; I didn't know him, he was a stranger and a dangerous one at that. I had never been good with strangers. It sounded sickeningly abstract, but I knew that everybody was like a book with a story behind them - and most people had their fair share of dark secrets. Whilst I didn't know this man I knew that he had some dark things that could be unearthed if I knew him.

In a sense that always put me off people. I sat there in silence as my stylist observed my make-up, making adjustments when necessary. There was a pause before the man looked at me thoughtfully, stroking his prominent chin.

"Well... District Eight..."

"Can you just cut straight to the point?" I told the man with gritted teeth. I didn't like it when people tried to slowly worm their way in to a conversation when it could be discussed immediately.

"You like to beat it around the bush, don't you?" The stylist asked me, looking at his nails mockingly.

"Don't answer a question with a question," I said.

"I'm inquisitive."

"And I'm impatient," I snapped back. There was a brief pause where the stylist tried to come up with a witty retort but he failed. I smirked to myself as the stylist brushed my dull hair again with puckered lips.

I didn't usually win arguments because I wasn't very good with words. I was good with maths and science, but that was a different art - there was logic within them and a sense of predictability. Words weren't quite the same; there were so many metaphors and double meanings for words to be logical - I never grasped on to people's fascination for language.

"Do you want to know your costume or not?" The stylist asked me bitterly.

"What is it?" I asked, hoping it wasn't cotton - I didn't like cotton, it was fluffy and violating. I didn't usually like the feeling of fabric against my skin, but - with cotton as an exception - fabric was quite bearable.

The stylist paused for a second before he moved his hand and pressed it against the wall. The handprint sensitive technology recognised his print and in a second the wall slid open with a beep, parting to reveal what looked like a very poofy dress that was made out of pink and blue ribbons.

My heart froze and I felt my stomach lurch when the slow realisation of wearing blue sank into my system. I knew the logically the fear of a certain electromagnetic wavelength was ridiculous, but I had always been terrified of blue and purple colours; they kind of broke the tranquility of my vision and caused unneeded stress.

"B-b-blue?" I asked my stylist as the door opposite me opened and another stylist walked in with my District partner. I hadn't talked to Micah very much but I had to admit that seeing him wearing a waistcoat made out of ribbons evoked some kind of sympathy. He looked ridiculous, and the pink colours did nothing to reflect his masculinity. I watched as the two stylists giggled and cheered at each other's 'masterpieces.'

"I cannot wear this," I muttered as my stylist forced me into the dress. I felt exposed, vulnerable and quite terrified as he tore off my gown and shoved the new dress onto me.

The Games were only going to get worse.

"Don't worry," Micah grimaced. "You can get off with wearing pink."

"The balance of pink and blue is supposed to represent the balance of masculinity and femininity," the stylist told Micah as he laced some blue ribbons in my hair. I closed my eyes, trying to distract myself with Newton's laws or some other scientific principles.

Micah looked at the pink and turquoise ribbons before smiling falsely. "Yeah, I look really macho in this outfit."

That managed to make me grin a little. Eventually the excited stylists rounded Micah and I together before deciding to lead us out into the chariots. Micah didn't speak much after that, but he did glance around contemplatively as we walked down the blindlingly white corridors.

"You look nice," he told me off handedly.

"No I don't."

"Okay," Micah chuckled. "You look like a bit of a mess - you could be worse though, you could be forced into a waistcoat of ribbons."

"It suits you," I mocked. "All you need is a bowler hat and a chihuahua."

"I'm more of a labrador person myself," Micah said. "So who are you anyway? Are you from the prissy part of town? You're pretty well spoken."

"I'm rather middle class," I said defensively, wincing as I saw the flash of blue from Micah's costume. I had managed to distract myself with logic and conversation but the thought of having blue on my skin was like imagining myself wearing a dress of insects.

"Right... I'm-"

"From a poorer area, I assume," I said to Micah as we stepped out into the open air with Peacekeepers following not far behind us all. "I could tell from the attire you wore at the Reaping. I mean seriously, who wears a leather jacket these days?"

I remembered all my opponents and my first impressions of them concretely, and with my sarcastic remarks aside the boy beside me scared me - he was both taller and stronger than me and I knew from his criminal-esque look that he knew a thing or two about surviving.

"Don't diss the leather jacket," Micah frowned. "I still can't believe they took that off me."

"Was that your token?"

"No, but I intended on keeping it in the arena," Micah said. "I wanted to look cool." He glared at me when I snorted, but pressed on. "Apparently it doesn't go with the arena's 'conduct' and it could be used as a suffocating tool."

"What a shame," I said, trying to feel sorry for Micah, though I didn't have any success. "So what is your token then?"

"This," Micah smirked, holding out the palm of his hand. A tiny ceramic cat rested on it and I was immediately thrown off. "It's my mum's."

"It's... Almost as masculine as your chariot outfit," I smiled warmly at Micah before my nostrils were greeted with the stench of dung and hay. I paused in disgust as I realised that we had been lead into the stables, where our chariots would be lead out into the city.

"So..." Micah continued talking, but my attention was focused on the muck and dirt that polluted the barn and I suddenly felt self conscious - most of the tributes had been lead into the courtyard, including the Careers that would hunt me down and kill me.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Huh?" I looked at Micah and frowned as I snapped back into reality.

"I was asking about your token," Micah told me, craning his head so that his line of vision followed mine. "Although if you're looking at the Careers the Four girl has pretty nice boobs... The girl from Two is definitely the hottest though, I'd tap that."

"You'd... What?"

"Oh never mind," Micah grinned cheekily. "I had my hopes up that you were a lesbian."

"Why?" I looked at the Two girl, the one Micah had publicly confessed his sexual attraction to before I recognised her face. She was the daughter of Cadia Hathaway - the victor!

"Once again, never mind," Micah chuckled. "I'm not going to take your innocence. I was just asking what your District token was."

My hand immediately grabbed a small bracelet my mother had bought for me long ago. The silver had E=Mc² engraved deeply into it. The necklace made me think of the science and logic I loved so much, but it was also a painful reminder of my mother; my mother wasn't the most tolerable woman, and my Aspergers gave her a lot of stress. If I won (which would be unlikely) I would really try to make everything up to her.

"E=Mc²? Isn't that what some quack job scientist made up?"

"Not a quack job," I said proudly, holding on to the necklace with a new found determination and confidence inside of me. "If you listened in your physics lessons you'd know that he was Albert Einstein, and he's one of the greatest men that's ever lived."

"Like me," Micah laughed, jokingly pecking his guns. Although I supposed they were only small. Regardless, I didn't underestimate Micah's strength, but he wasn't as bulky looking as the Four or Five boy. "I'm the greatest, hun."

I tried to stop myself from smiling, but there was no success. Micah was an idiot - he was a cocky, stupid fool, but a loveable one at that. Though I liked Micah I really had no intention with teaming up with him, and as Micah scanned the other horseless chariots for other tributes I knew that he had the same intentions.

I felt my heart stop as I stepped onto the chariot, my weight making the wood beneath my feet creak a little. I tried to breath and reassure myself that everything would be okay, but my irrational fears always got the better of me. I stumbled forward and Micah looked at me.

"You alright?" He asked, slightly concerned. "All the colour in your face has just disappeared."

"I'm fine," I lied, struggling to breathe through my nerves.

The tributes around me were all chatting, some of them were crying, some were joking and laughing. One thing would never change - by the end of the Games twenty two of them would be corpses buried beneath the ground. That alone was enough to make me feel ill.

But then the nerves kicked in, accompanying the sickness. The thought of being dragged out of the chariot to meet adoring (and bloodthirsty) fans made my whole system respond in a way that made me feel uneasy. I was awful in a room with five or six people, but a crowd of thousands was a totally different matter.

"Look," Micah uneasily held me up by my shoulder as I felt my stomach jerk. "I know this is a bit weird but you have to hang on in there, okay?"

"To get you sponsors?" I snapped nastily, feeling anger rise in me. It would be typical that I'd feel like this during the chariots. Stupid Hunger Games and its pointless Pre-Arena beauty events. Micah looked slightly affronted, but I didn't care - I didn't trust him. I didn't trust anybody in the arena.

Like hungry predators scouring a forest two Gamemakers walked into the stable to check that everything was going smoothly, and the tributes started whispering excitedly. Their words all came together as one loud noise and the pounding in my head grew louder and louder, until it was like a beating drum.

"I..." I muttered, feeling the instinctive need to curl up into a ball and shut the world away. Unfortunately I knew that that couldn't happen in the Hunger Games anymore. I had to go out there and face the world instead of shutting it out. But the world was such a nasty, hostile place. Why would I want to let the world in? To survive? No matter what I did surviving seemed quite impossible.

"Look... Do you need a bucket to throw up in?" Micah asked me wearily, making sure to step back so that I didn't throw up on his leather shoes. "I mean..."

His words were blocked out as I opened my mouth and spewed out the contents of my stomach. Vomit puddled the floor of the chariot as I caught sight of my sickly blue dress in a mirror nearby. I didn't stop throwing up until the Capitolian delicacies that I had treated myself to were all out.

The reaction was immediate. The volume of everyone's chatter grew louder and I heard the two Gamemakers rush towards me. Where they concerned? It would've been quite ironic if they were.

Whatever happened I faded into blackness anyway, dreading to think of what I would have to face when I woke up.

* * *

**I'm so sorry, but I am under exam pressure right now. I'll try to update when I have the time; I just need to get physics out the way, really.**

**And wow... After this chapter I'll have over one hundred reviews, and I haven't even gotten to training yet - thanks so much, you're all fantastic (so keep reviewing!)**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: So what do you think of these dudes? I love them both._

Interview Question: Do you have a particular 'style?' If so, what is it?


	8. The Chariots

**Aibileen Karpis, District 6, 16:**

* * *

The world slowed down as the girl in the chariot behind me vomitted and collapsed, and there was a load of commotion as two Gamemakers and the District Eight boy tried to help her. I paused as I looked at the scene, wondering whether the girl was okay or not. I wanted to say something, but I was as quiet as a mouse.

Not that I could make a vocal noise anyway, of course. Ever since birth I had been born a mute. It didn't sound so bad, not being able to talk - my optimistic mother used to tell me that I was lucky for not being blind - but that didn't detract from the fact that I felt like a foreigner, constantly penned away from the rest of society because I couldn't conjure any words out of my mouth.

"She's conscious," a Gamemaker with long pink hair said. I attentively listened into the conversation between the Gamemakers, distinguishing every word. I was always fascinated with words because they were something I could never speak myself; hearing them from other people always seemed like a new experience.

Far ahead of me the District One girl, a big nosed prat with strawberry blonde hair, pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the District Eight chariot before laughing and saying horrible words. I hated people like that, people who always spoke words as toxic as cyanide. My hands habitually curled into fists as I observed the nasty District One girl, wishing she could be taught a lesson.

"Are you alright?" My District partner asked besides me. He was quite skinny, with pale skin and dark hair. He was so reserved I could never really communicate with him. "You look angry."

I bit my lip and nodded, to confirm I was angry. I wished that I could express my anger in words, but if I tried speaking I'd only feel a straining sensation in my throat. The young boy's face was obscured by a surgeon's mask, but he moved it out the way to observe me more.

The boy, despite his young age, actually did look like a doctor. I always liked doctors - they were kind, and they used their knowledge for good instead of evil. Coming from the medicinal District I knew a thing or two about them. Even though I failed Biology in school I constantly read about famous Capitolian doctors too.

Why? Well, as much as I hated to admit it I dreamt that I could meet up with one and pay for him to repair my voice. I knew that dream was naïve - I didn't know if my condition was reparable, but I was much too poverty stricken to pay a doctor anyway. But seeing as I couldn't speak it was only fair for me to hope.

"You don't speak much, do you?" The boy asked. He sounded kind, but he wasn't truly at ease - I could sense it. "I prefer it that way too, but well..."

I wished I could tell the boy that I couldn't talk, but there was no way to get it across. I looked down at the nurses outfit I was wearing, feeling slightly annoyed that my stylist had made me wear something so skimpy. I was muscular for a girl, and my jaw was wide and masculine - I wasn't designed to wear skirts that were so high up they could've been belts.

"Can you even talk?" The boy asked me. Bingo. I nodded my head again, watching as the boy frowned sympathetically before turning away. There were a couple of stable keepers that were connecting the horses to our chariot, which meant one thing - we'd be lead out into the city centre soon. The boy looked at me for a second with a sad glint in his eyes. "I'm sorry... My name is Holden, by the way."

I smiled warmly before grabbing the boys hand and shaking it. Holden wasn't falsely sweet, though I could see something cold in his demeanour, but he was respectful and that was important. My hands clenched together again in anger at the thought of him being sent into the Games and dying.

You could say I had a lot of bottled anger. That was very true. Since I had spent years with the inability to express the flaws I saw in the corrupt country of Panem, I had to keep my inner rage bottled up. It was always bottled up.

Boxing was my way to express myself. Instead of talking, I could show my anger by slamming my fist into something. I wished I had my gloves now so that my fists could be cushioned, but I wasn't allowed to take more than one object. I supposed boxing was a potential strength I had in the arena, but I still saw it as more of an art than a defence mechanism.

I had beaten up some people in my time though; when I was younger I knew a few bullies - like the sniggering Careers in their chariots - who thought they could pick on me because I was different. For a while while I had managed to conserve my anger, but as soon as my grandfather learnt me how to box I pummelled them to the ground whenever they tried to be smart with me.

Some people said violence was the answer, but for me what was the answer? I tried patience, but it never prevented the problem. I tried communicating with them, but that failed for obvious reasons. I wanted to say that punching somebody was my last resort, but it was my only resort. I smiled at I felt myself go back home, slamming my fists into the cushioned material of a punching bag.

I missed my family, too. I never thought I would - my family weren't the happiest bunch. My mother was a chirpy woman who was being brought down by her miserable husband and his overbearing father. But her miserable husband was my kind, caring dad and his overbearing father was my gramps. Sure, he was grumpy, but he was my boxing and mentor who told me everything I needed to know about life.

They were the ones I was fighting to get home to. I didn't know what my strategy would be yet, but I was sure to do what my grandfather suggested - 'give 'em the old one two.' I knew that I wasn't a Career, but I was street smart and a fighter.

I could only hope that that was enough to get me through.

Although looking at it logically my chances were slim. I wasn't good at mathematics, but I knew that one in twenty four was next to impossible. Although I wasn't really upset by the prospect of dying - it angered me, but I had almost accepted it. Death was just the end, the muteness of my being as well as my voice.

Although thinking of the things that the bastard Capitolians were going to put me through made my bottled fury overflow slightly. Holden watched me wearily as I looked to the ground in anger, my whole body trembling.

"Ever wanted to punch something?" Holden asked, looking at the back of the golden chariot in front of him. In front of us were the District Five tributes, dressed up as DNA or something of the sort.

I nodded in reply, almost grinning because I knew that Holden didn't know the half of it. Holden cracked his joints nervously before looking at me and frowning.

"I don't feel angry that much," he admitted. "But I feel angry now. Angry and scared. Is that normal?"

I nodded, knowing that though the fear hadn't set itself in me the anger was there. It was always there, like a raincloud looming over a city, and now it was letting off lightning from the moment I had been reaped. Holden cracked his joints again, one by one. It was quite an annoying habit, but I could bear with it.

"Citizens of the Capitol," a voice blasted out of invisible speakers so loudly I felt that I was going to be deafened. "I now present you with your tributes for the Two Hundred and Third annual Hunger Games!"

The booming voice was replaced by loud screams that were equally as deafening, and the gates slowly opened as District One's chariot slowly began to veer out of the stables and into the city. I looked down nervously so that my gaze was directed at anything but the audience. I wasn't a peoples person, so crowds didn't really suit me.

District One were met by applause like every year. They were dressed head to toe in valuable gems that allowed multicoloured beams of light to bounce off their body. The girl jumped around enthusiastically, blowing kisses at her adoring fans whilst her thick emerald earrings jingled. The boy was quite the crowd pleaser too, though he did look pretty uncomfortable underneath his glittering skin.

"And we have our tributes Luster Harbetto and Astrid Evans!" The Hunger Games announcer told the audience. Some of them even had banners with the tributes' face on them. "Both of them are volunteers are both of them are great Career tributes who we cannot wait to see!"

The One tributes were replaced by the two from District Two. Neither tributes were as enthusiastic as the girl, but their mild waving was enough to make some audience members faint. Both tributes wore clothes that looked like stone and their skin was glossed so it looked like a silvery grey. The pretty girl and the towering boy both looked like grand, powerful statues and the Capitol loved it.

"Archimedes Plutus and Melanthe Hathaway are the District Two lot," a booming voice told the audience. "We're loving them this year! Both are volunteers. We're sure Archimedes has some tricks up his sleeve, but Melanthe is the daughter of one of our beloved victors - will she have the prowess of her mother?"

The District Three tributes followed. They were fortunate in the fashion department this year - both of them were wearing outfits that were made out of spare computer parts, but it managed to look good. The girl seemed totally cloaked by the shadows, and the crowd barely noticed her. That didn't stop the Capitol from cheering on the boy, who waved and cheered charismatically.

"District Three have Karble Ive and Dannielle Wright!" The Capitol screamed for Karble. I knew Karble's type - a crowd pleaser who could manipulate an audience to his will. Still, I wondered how well he'd fare in the arena. "Man, Karble knows how to please a crowd, doesn't he? Danielle seems a bit more camouflaged, but will her chameleon like nature help her in the arena?"

The audience all cheered in the affirmative, and the District Three tributes were worshipped. I had to stop myself from slamming my fist into the nearest solid object when I saw the District Four tributes. The District Four tributes usually had extravagant outfits, but now they were just wearing as little as possible. The boy only had a bit of woven fishing net covering his crotch so that his perfect, golden body was on show. The girl had a whole dress woven out of net, but her large breasts were almost exposed to the audience.

"Here are District Four!" There were cheers for the half naked tributes straight away. "Blaine Odesius is a fine looking Four volunteer, and Naomi was reaped but we're sure she's a competitor!"

Blaine waved as girls actually fainted in his presence. I rolled my eyes, irritated at the whole overreaction; I had to admit that the guy was good looking, but I wouldn't faint for him. Naomi smiled more modestly, waving to the passing audience members who screamed her name.

"We're almost there," Holden said. My stomach turned into a knot as the spotlight edged itself closer to me, and I truly felt the inevitability of my face eventually being displayed on the big screens all over the country. Holden patted me reassuringly when he realised how nervous I felt.

I reassured myself, telling myself that I was currently safe. The screen was on the District Five tributes, who garnered much less applause than the others. The boy looked incredibly angry and the girl looked blank, almost bored. I didn't blame them for being so unresponsive, as their costume was a double helix that they were both caged in. Both tributes looked trapped and unfashionable.

I guessed that was one less sponsor for the other tributes, but I did feel sorry for them. And like the boy I felt angry - the Capitol didn't just glamourise tributes, they made them all laughing stocks too.

"And we have Callis Carlson and Avalynn Hiebler!" The audience all cheered, though it was less enthusiastic. "Callis looks ready to unleash his anger out in the arena, and that Avalynn looks quite empty, doesn't she? I bet she'll be an interesting one!"

They always said that. 'I bet they'd be interesting!' Truth be told, six to twelve of those interesting ones would end up as slaughtered Bloodbath tributes, which meant that they hardly had a chance to be interesting. Holden leant over the side of the chariot, waving and smiling at the audience as the spotlight was pushed towards us.

And then the light hit us. I immediately felt myself transform from a silhouette in the background into an illuminating figure - the girl who was in the limelight for all of Panem to see. I didn't like the feeling at all, and instead of waving I moved my hand to my skirt in an attempt to cover up my exposed legs. But suddenly my hand jerked up, and it waved instinctively. The move was robotic at first, as if I had only began learning how to wave.

I looked at Holden and he was uncomfortable too, but he was smiling and waving - we were both doing as we were told. Sometimes to survive you had to break down your comfort zone, and the key to surviving began the moment my name was called out in the Reaping.

That's what all this smiling and waving was, collecting up fans and increasing our chance of survival. With that thought in my head I began to wave more enthusiastically as Holden waved too.

"Aibileen Karpis and Holden Gray are the tributes from District Six," the voice boomed as I waved at cheering, faceless fans. "Both of them are managing to face the crowd, but are either of them Victor material?"

I continued waving and smiling. I wanted the Capitol to know that I was victor material. All the years of being the quiet girl in the corner was going to change now, regardless of my muteness. The earth froze in its orbit during the last few moments of my time in the spotlight, and then the Capitol jumped up and cheered. I did it. I received my standing ovation.

Once the light moved towards the District Seven tributes Holden and I stopped our enthusiastic approach, and we just stood there in a stunned joy. I wanted to express my euphoria, but I simply flopped down into my seat with a large grin - that said it all.

"That was the worst moment of my life," Holden muttered, and his face quickly paled. "I can't believe I'm doing this. This... This is what the Capitol wants, isn't it?"

I frowned and nodded.

"But that's what survival is, right?" Holden sat down next to me, watching as we approached the city circle so that the President could give his speech. "Adaptation. Learning how to do what you're bad at... This is how we survive, Aibileen... We change. That's the choice." There was a cheer from behind us as District Seven received a booming applause. "It's do or die now."

Do or die.

* * *

**Sperren Prazna, District 7, 18:**

The light was so bright I stumbled back, taken by surprise as it blinded me. Violet seemed to be used to it, and she cheered and screamed in joy whilst waving and blowing kisses to the audience. She obviously loved this aspect of the Games, which meant that she was a simple minded idiot who needed to stay away from me.

I supposed I was a little bit jealous. I was never going to do well in the Pre Games events, but I knew that from the very beginning. As for Violet, she was more likeable and she had a much nicer costume than me. Whilst I was wearily a horrible, thick tree trunk that made moving impossible Violet wore a costume that hugged her whole body in a complimentary fashion. Her skin seemed covered by the dark green wood that coated her, and the bits of foliage that had been weaved into her hair made her green eyes stand out.

"This is totally fun!" Violet giggled, waving even more. The Capitol were cheering for her, I knew it. Whilst she had her made up face and slim figure on show I was totally obscured - especially my face, seeing as my stylist wanted to 'hide that disgusting scar!'

Yeah. Fun.

The light moved out of my vision, allowing me to finally see what was going on. I grumbled and turned around, looking at the District Eight tributes as they were carted along. The two were wearing outfits made up of ribbons, and though it looked ridiculous the Capitol thought they were cute. I saw them for what they really were; the girl was leaning over the side as she tried not to be sick, and the boy was pulling fake poses - he was mocking the audience.

"Well, there are our District Eight tributes," the commentator chuckled. "I wonder who the next lot are?"

In answer to his question the spotlight obediently swung over to the District Nine tributes. To represent the food and meat producing industry the District Nine tributes were both dressed up in raw meat. The boy looked incredibly disturbing with the blood that trickled over his face, and when it dribbled over his lips it highlighted his sadistic grin further. The girl stood there, waving at the crowd innocently. I knew she wasn't innocent, nobody was-

Some humans were better than others, but I knew that every human had an inner flaw and evil, and if they acted kind they were only false liars. The sweet, little District Nine girl definitely fit into the second category.

"That's Cardinal Volke and Elise McElroy," the commentator told the crowd, who all cried for the little girl. They were mostly indifferent to the boy, but I knew that his unnerving manner would definitely gain him sponsors; people always loved the sadistic tributes as they were the ones who could kill and (ultimately) win.

District Ten rolled through the crowd, dressed up as sheep. The tall, lanky boy looked incredibly awkward as he glanced at his arms, which were gloved with fake hooves. They had tried to make the girl look adorable, but she wasn't the prettiest face and she looked a bit like an overweight ball of cotton instead of a sheep.

Not that I judged her for being one of the unattractive tributes. I was hardly a supermodel myself - I had obtained a scar at a young age, and it didn't make me look daring or masculine; I looked like a boy whose face had been split in two. The stylists had covered it up, of course, but nobody was going to sponsor me on physical appearance alone because everybody had seen me during the Reaping. Hopefully that would only add to my exterior toughness, having a scar like that. It was only an awful burn, but people automatically thought scarred people were war heroes. That was an advantage.

"Our District Eleven tributes, Broson Gray and Petunia Hines!" The commentator said. His voice lacked the zeal it usually had and I could tell that he was getting bored - the Capitol usually did around the time District Ten had been shown. I almost felt sorry for the two tributes who were dressed up as oranges, but they were my competition.

And then, as the limelight began to drift from them, they stole it right back when a small fight ensued. Broson whispered something unintelligible to Petunia, but she only laughed and stomped on Broson's foot harshly.

The Capitol screamed in excitement, only too happy that the violence had already started. Broson didn't retaliate, he only held his foot and glared at his District Partner, who had humiliated him. That girl would definitely gain sponsors from her outburst.

"Well, wasn't that quite a scene?" The commentator laughed. "Lets hope that this drama pans out in the arena! Now for our District Twelve tributes, Reed Ardice and Vigil Hatzardys!"

The two tributes' costumes gathered a lot of attention, which was quite rare for Twelve tributes. Their chariots emerged from dark plumes of smoke, and the Capitol audience cheered and screamed in excitement. Though the Twelve tributes only wore simple black clothing - it was the stage effects that made them eye catching. My eye caught the Twelve girl's determined gaze, but I knew that apart from the smoke the Twelve gems were as bland as ever.

"Well, we've seen our tributes, but let us see what the President will have to say on the matter!" The commentator laughed. I yelped as our chariot turned around sharply, venturing into the wide city circle. Violet looked at me and gave me a silly smile as we looked up at the balcony.

The screams of the Capitol were subdued immediately when the President strode up to the microphone with a confident gait and an intelligent (yet deceptive) twinkle in his eye. Marx Nystalgia was loved in the Capitol - he was the President who had granted many civil liberties for the Capitolians; he allowed homosexual marriage, he legalised genetic engineering on embryos, he lowered the pension age - but in order to do so he made life in the Districts much harder, stealing our liberties so that they could be fed to his beloved city. President Nystalgia was the most bloodthirsty President, but he did all his manipulating in the shadows of his 'welfare reforms.'

"Hello Panem," the President spoke into the microphone with a warm smile. The cheers the loving Capitol gave were much louder than they could've dreamt of giving a tribute. "I am so proud to announce that the Games have begun. An arena has been made, and we plan to make these Games as memorable as last years." There were more cheers that silenced the President, and he continued talking once the audience had calmed. "Our new tributes have been reaped. New traps and surprises have been deployed, but I am sure you will be shocked by some old faces and old tricks."

The Capitol's silence unnerved me. There was a bone chilling emphasis on that last sentence that made me stop and think about the President's words - old faces?

"So are they transplanting old tributes' faces on to me or something?" Violet asked, puzzled by the President's words. I tried to resist the urge to roll my eyes at her stupidity.

"So, I am thrilled," the President's solemn voice grew loud as he took a pistol out of his coat and aimed it at the sky. "To say that the Two Hundred and Third annual Hunger Games have began!"

As he pulled the trigger there was a crack as a confetti capsule Tshot out of his gun, exploding in the air and showering the citizens below with multi-coloured flecks of paper. As soon as the President announced the Games the parties began, and the sky was corrupt with the screech of cheers and fireworks. Fortunately all the tributes were carted away to the training centre, which was a shelter of tranquility.

I thought of how the Games were going to get fierce now - no more costumes, just knives and drama for the time being. I knew I was a tough person and after working in the lumber fields I was more than capable with an axe - that would certainly help.

It was sick, but I wanted to return and give my parents the money I owed them for raising me on the condition that my brother wasn't allowed a single penny. My elder brother, Sabin, was the one who had given me my scar when I was an infant. He was also the person who awakened me to the evil earth.

I stroked the area where my scar was, thinking about how much I wanted to kill Sabin. I didn't like to think of how it had been given to me, but I couldn't forget the sensation of having my head dunked into a roasting fire. The pain still came back eventually, both physically and emotionally.

"That was so totally cool!" Violet giggled when we had stopped.

I needed a drink. Something strong to drown away my painful memories and the annoying chatter of the parrot, Violet, as she yapped the night away with her big mouth.

"Easy for you to say," I grumbled. "You had an alright costume."

"It isn't a costume, it's an outfit," Violet lectured. "And I was supposed to wear one like you, but I decided that the best thing to do was slim it down. I suggested it to my stylist and we worked together to create this!"

"How impressive," I said, my voice drenched in sarcasm. "What else can you do? Can you work your way around a weapon?"

Violet blinked. "I play the flute."

"Can you run?"

"I once chased after this really hot guy," Violet said, not knowing that I was testing her for any worthy survival skills.

"Do you know any hand to hand combat fighting?" I asked impatiently.

"Well my friend Percy can bitchslap," Violet giggled. "She bitchslapped Zina Coz, you know Zina right? The slutty one? Yes well she totally insulted Percy's brother for being bad in the bedroom department, and Percy was so mad-"

I zoned out as Violet blabbed on about Zina and Percy, two idiots who lived in my District. I disliked girls like that - they were like most other humans; callous, two faced and ridiculous. I concluded that Violet wasn't as nasty as she seemed, but she was incredibly stupid. Stupid people were always dangerous companions.

"I liked Percy," Violet frowned as I snapped out of my daydream. "She was cool... She didn't visit me in the Justice Building though... I thought my friends would..."

"They never do Violet," I told her. "People aren't like that. People are selfish, they only really think about themselves."

"I don't think so, one of my friends visited me!" Violet said. In a second she held onto the rails of the chariot and thrust herself over it, soaring over gracefully and landing on her feet indifferently, as if she had done nothing. I paused, trying to talk, but the shock of Violet having athletic talent baffled me.

"You can do that?" I gawped.

"It's called gymnastics," Violet told me, grinning happily to herself because she had used a big word. "And yes, a girl has to find one way or another to keep fit, and I totally didn't want to look like a tomboy or something disgusting like that."

I could do something similar to gymnastics. It was a strange mix up between gymnastics, climbing and running - parkour. It was the only hobby I had really bothered to get myself into, and it was nearly as good as vodka when it came to forgetting the bad - the thought of the wind on my face and the urban skyline stretched out before me sent chills of anticipation up my spine.

Once I waddled out of my chariot and got changed back into normal clothes Violet and I were escorted back into our normal hotel rooms. Our room was beautiful; it had a plush living room with a balcony that looked over me the beautiful lights of the Capitol.

I looked out at the stars, wondering what was happening. Was my mother crying? She did cry a lot. She still blamed herself for what Sabin did to me, but I never resented her - it was all his fault. I was willing to bet that he was sat there right now in front of the television, smirking smugly and waiting for my death.

My fists clenched onto my token, the silhouette of a bird carved from fine out. With clenched fists I knew that I couldn't give Sabin that satisfaction, I'd be willing to die - but I'd rather eat my own eyeballs than succumb to Sabin's desires.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they?" Violet said behind me, looking out. I was more transfixed on a skyscraper that truly did seem to scrape the sky, but I smiled falsely anyway.

"Guess so," I muttered, feeling my personal space diminish instantly when she stood on the edge of the balcony holding a small glass of champagne.

"I like champagne, it makes me feel smart," Violet told me. I had to resist the urge to laugh, knowing that Violet was anything but smart.

"You should've told me there was alcohol."

"I don't want you killing yourself," Violet said, pausing when she knew there was a hint of dramatic irony in her words. "Do you ever worry that the stars would crash into each other?"

"Not really," I said, knowing that they were lightyears away and their collision wouldn't affect me in any way. I didn't even think that stars crashed into each other anyway, but I wasn't really taught Science in school - most of my teaching was how to chop wood or make paper.

"The death of a star," Violet sighed. "Nothing lives forever, right? No matter how bright you shine, you're always going to go out or collide with something." Violet took a small sip of her champagne, before screwing her face up in disgust. "Anyways, I need to sleep or something."

I thought about Violet's words as she moved back into the house, knowing that for somebody of Violet's intelligence they were kind of profound. Everybody did go out eventually, so why were the others trying?

I breathed the night in one last time before strolling inside to have a well deserved drink.

* * *

**And here are the chariot rides! :)**

**Usually chariot rides in SYOT's are boring and the same old thing, and I don't think this is much better, but oh well.**

**Training next - wow, the Games are looming closer. We're practically half way through the pre-Games now :D**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: What do you think of these two? I think they're a good pair, similar outlook on life._

Interview Question: Are you good with a crowd?


	9. The Training

**Astrid Evans, District 1, 18:**

* * *

Astrid Jewel Evans, the soon to be victor of the Two Hundred and Third Games. I was an average teenage girl with big dreams, and after years of training I knew that my moment had finally arrived on a golden platter; I was finally going to go in and win the Hunger Games.

The first day of training was here, so I made sure to get up extra early. At half five in the morning I got a nice, hot shower before prettying myself up in the mirror. I was rather average looking, and my nose was too big - especially for District One standards - but I was prepared for the Games and that was all that mattered. Looks didn't mean anything when I could get plastic surgery soon anyway.

I started off with my morning exercises, and I was doing some sit ups when Leena, the District escort, strolled into the room was a large smirk on her face. Her grin grew impossibly long when she saw me exercising.

"Good girl," she said. "I bet you'll be a winner - you cannot let me down like Liane did."

"Of course I won't," I snorted, standing up and jogging furiously on the spot. I barely broke a sweat, and the thought of all the tributes that were stretched out before me made me grin with a little sadistic pleasure. I wasn't a sadist - blood was gross, but I was an ambitious young girl. "Liane was a stupid daddy's girl."

"Hm, good knife thrower," Leena told me.

"I'm better," I instantly replied, finishing my morning exercises and storming out of my room so that I could enter the makeshift kitchen the Capitol gave me. With a snap of my fingers an Avox was at my side with freshly squeezed orange juice.

"What weapon is your expertise?"

"Knives, in ranged and combat," I said with a grin. I preferred range though, that way I didn't have any sticky blood touching me. I was still a little unsure about whether or not I was going to bother with training today, but intimidating a tribute did sound a lot funner.

"I'm good at knives," Luster said awkwardly as he strolled into the room. Luster was the quiet boy who was the best in the District at ranged weapons, and I assumed that he was a bit psychopathic too because most boy Careers rolled that way. "I can also use arrows, darts and crossbows."

Leena grinned, impressed by Luster's skill. I felt my being quiver with envy, but I assured myself that once Luster had to fight somebody at close combat he was as dead as a District Twelve tribute. I spent the next few minutes boasting to Leena in an attempt to impress her although she was more focused on her nails. Once it was nine o' clock and training began I decided that it was a good time to intimidate tributes.

"Woops," I giggled as I purposely threw my body into Luster, giggling as he dropped his glass of orange juice. His glass was smashed and juice flooded the floor, washing over crystallised shards of glass and being absorbed into the carpet.

"Very funny," Luster muttered with gritted teeth. He didn't put up much more of a fight and I appreciated that - I always wanted a submissive District partner just so I could bully them. I turned on my heel and smirked as I walked past Luster, feeling my feet sink into the soft carpet.

"Hope you're not going to be so clumsy in the arena," I patronised, watching as the boy's blue eyes flashed with anger.

"I hope you don't barge into people so much," he snapped back. "You're no better than the rest."

"The rest?"

"Daddy's girls," he spat, barging past me with a red face. Before he stepped into the welcoming elevator he turned to me one last time before speaking threateningly. "You're the same as any other District One - a rich girl who made it with your dad's bank account. You're not even as pretty as the usual District One female tribute, being honest. You can be as arrogant as you want, but you're not a victor."

Before I could retort the elevator doors slammed shut, and Luster was dragged away from me. I paused for a second, dumb founded. I was many things but I never did consider myself a daddy's girl. I wasn't like those other girls who wanted to win on looks alone; I didn't attend parties or shop all day, because I was a reserved person. My time was spent training for the Hunger Games.

My father was rich, he was a businessman whose goods had made a massive profit in the Capitol, but that didn't make me spoilt. I thought of how Luster's words echoed the words of my stern mother, the woman who told me I was spoilt constantly whenever my father wasn't fawning over me. I supposed that even though I wanted the thrill and the riches of the Games I wanted to show my mother that I wasn't a pretty girl who was reliant on a credit card - I was a killer-to-be.

As soon as I entered the training hall I observed the room. The ceilings were ridiculously high, as if I were in a cathedral, and the room was illuminated by high tech lighting. All of the tributes were lined up as they were lectured on their training time, but I ignored whatever that guy was yattering on about and instead moved to the Two from District Two.

"Careers?" I asked the boy, who was so busy listening he ignored me. Instead I turned to the Two girl, who had a pretty face and blue eyes. "Are you?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Good."

The training centre lecture had finished and the boy narrowed his sharp eyes at me before he straightened his posture. He breathed in once before he spoke, elaborating every words as clearly as possible.

"I suppose you're here about the Careers," he guessed wryly. I nodded before he grinned slyly. "Oh, then I'm in - naturally."

"That's three out of six," I said brightly. "The boy in my District is weak though so it would be best if we discarded him..."

"I saw him with his arrows," Archimedes calmly stated. "He could pelt them into a bullseye without so much as blinking - he has some talent." Archimedes noticed my frown before laughing. "Are you jealous? The better Careers we have on our time, the better protected we are."

And with that he called annoying, goodie goodie Luster over. I tried to vent up my fury, though I was certain that it turned my face a rather unattractive purple colour. When the tributes from Four came over, the Four boy was quick to point it out.

"Who kicked you in the balls?" He joked lightly, causing the others but Luster to snigger. How witty of him.

"If you don't be quiet," I spoke coolly and collectively. "I'll kick you in the balls, is that clear pretty boy?"

"No arguing," Archimedes snapped.

"Who made you the leader?" Blaine told Archimedes, averting his amber eyes at his rival. The two exchanged glances before I turned around and confidently pushed myself into the centre of the Career circle, so that I was in the limelight for all to hear.

"I'm the leader," I stated.

"You're a girl," Blaine said. His District partner nudged him harshly, obviously taken aback by his sexist comments. So we have an arrogant, sexist pig in the Career pack did we? I grinned, thinking about how I was going to castrate the District Four boy as soon as I had the chance.

"How about democracy," Archimedes looked at the Four boy before smirking. "All in favour of Blaine Odesius as the Career leader, raise your hand."

Naturally nobody raised their hand. Blaine glared at his District partner, expecting her to of voted, but she only bit her lip nervously under his scornful gaze. Archimedes then glanced at me with a small smirk.

"All in favour of Astrid?"

The Four girl purposely avoided Blaine's gaze as she raised her hand, but Melanthe and Luster looked at me indifferently. I had one measly vote? I faked a smile, but I knew that even democracy was in my favour - I had won the most votes, so I was the official Career leader.

"All in favour of me raise your hand," Archimedes said, looking at the other two. Naturally fate would bite me in such a way, because my idiot District partner and Archimedes' little bitch both raised their hands confidently. Archimedes' lips subtly curled up into a grin, as he knew that he had won. That had been his plan all along, using democracy to his advantage. I suddenly felt weary of Archimedes, as he was intelligent; contrary to popular belief intelligence was a dangerous thing in the Hunger Games.

"Good," he said calmly. "Lets get started - memorise some of the survival techniques." Blaine opened his lips to protest, but Archimedes held out a finger at lightning speed. "No protesting. Arrogance can only lead to a downfall. Apart from that, do what you want to do - intimidate tributes, learn how to swim, see how I care."

The Careers all dispersed in different groups. The Two and Four girls walked together and Luster and Blaine went their own way, but Archimedes halted us before we could escape. He waited until all attention was on him, successfully grabbing everyone's gaze before speaking so smoothly the whole room could hear his whispers:

"Get an eight in training, or you're not in the alliance."

"Fine," Blaine shrugged, strolling off to intimidate the District Ten tributes. I paused for a second, but I laughed off Archimedes' comments because I knew that I could easily obtain an eight. After looking around I couldn't help but grin when I noticed that Melanthe and Naomi both looked worried though. Silly girls, trying to push above their weight.

As I moved to a poisonous plants section I realised that I didn't want to be the leader anyway - leaders had to cope with the more annoying, weaker tributes. When I thought about it logically being the leader wouldn't suit me; I wanted to kill from the shadows, be the underdog of the Careers.

The Eleven girl was next to me, sorting out poisonous plants into different categories. I looked through the leaflet, feeling slightly agitated when I realised that she had gotten every plant right. So it seemed this girl knew how to live off the land, but could she live after a battle?

"Too bad that the plant rubbish won't help you fight," I hissed in her ear. "How will you fare when I lunge a knife at your throat?"

The girl laughed, snapping the book closed good-naturedly. She turned to me and flicked her hair back as she spoke. "I wouldn't cope very well."

"No, you wouldn't," I tried taunting her, but she seemed to not care about what I had to say. As a tribute wasn't I supposed to be intimidating or something? "Have you ever been stabbed before, Eleven?"

"Please," the girl snorted. "Call me Petunia. And no, but I think I'd rather be decapitated or something, that death would be more interesting, wouldn't it?" She paused and then smirked at the shocked expression on my face. She looked down at me again before turning around and walking off, leaving me in a stunned silence.

"Good one," an arrogant voice laughed behind me. I spun around and glared at the Four boy who was so tanned her resembled a skinny tangerine, and my fists automatically clenched in fury.

"What have you done then?"

"Made the Seven girl wet herself in fear," Blaine shrugged before moving past me so that he reached the range weapons section. I followed, analysing the different throwing knives as I passed them. "Don't talk to the tributes, just show them what you're made of."

"How does that scare them?" I snorted.

Blaine grabbed a knife and lunged it at the target with a big grin on his face. The knife slammed close to the centre, but it wasn't quite there. Just to intimidate Blaine I grabbed the knife and made it sink into the target with a simple flick of my wrist. Blaine's eyebrows raised up as he admired my throw, but he still looked bored.

"Do you think I'm good looking?" He asked randomly as he threw a knife at a dummy, hitting the dummy square in the chest. My hands hovered over the silver plated handle of a blade before I replied.

"You're alright," I lied. Blaine was good looking, but I was more focused on killing him than snogging him. "What's it to do with you anyway? Are you trying to seduce me or something?"

"Not quite," Blaine told me mysteriously.

I turned around and flung a knife at a target close to the Seven boy, just to irritate him. He yelped and leapt back as the knife scraped the back of his neck, though he was unharmed. Blaine and I chuckled as he shot us looks that could kill, and I gasped when I saw the vile scar that plagued half of his face. He turned back around, still scowling.

"You don't look that bad," I told Blaine.

"I figured."

"You think a lot of yourself, don't you?"

Blaine paused before he answered, trying to find the right words. I smirked, knowing that the cocky Four boy had no defence. There was an awkward silence that was filled by the sound of knives being thrown before Blaine answered rather ambiguously. "I think a lot of myself as a Hunger Games tribute, but in general I'm unsure what to think. I'm not a nice person."

"Who cares about being nice," I sniggered. "Niceness is boring and overrated."

Blaine frowned, his facade changing as he looked confused. "Yeah. I guess it is."

I thought about the times I had been nice. When I was younger I didn't really get the chance to be nice; I was the rich girl who people only wanted to befriend for power. That was the point in my life where I cut people off, and after being told I was good for nothing but being greedy for my mother I realised how bored I was with life. The Hunger Games was my only friend, and over the next few days I knew that our bond was only going to intensify.

I spent the morning at the herb station, learning about herbs and their culinary and medicinal uses with Blaine. He was an arrogant tool but he was quite cultured and interesting; he knew a lot about contemporary theatre or classical music, so naturally he reminded me of my father.

"All natural remedies contain plants," a young boy from District Six muttered to himself as he memorised the book next to me, talking to himself as Blaine pretentiously boasted about some classical novel he liked. "But not all plants produce natural remedies."

I didn't know how that would help anyone survive, but I grabbed the guide out of the boy's hand anyway. The thin pieces of paper felt smooth and crisp in my hands, and I then tore the paper apart until it lay as sharp pieces on the floor. The boy looked indifferent for a second, and then he strolled to the fire making station with a disheartened expression.

When the lunchbell rang I moved off to the table full of Careers with Blaine at my side - he was only an asset. Leader or not, I was only going to bring anarchy to Archimedes' regime. I may have had setbacks, but they were jumpable hurdles - and I was going to jump over them with style. Seconds ticked closer to the arena, and once the gong rang I was in my natural element.

* * *

**Vigil Hatzardys, District 12, 18:**

The food in the canteen wasn't so appealing. I could tell that it was packed full of vitamins, minerals and all that jazz, but that didn't change the desirability of the product. Even if the muck served here promised to make me win I wouldn't eat it, hypothetically speaking.

Well, I probably would.

I was pretty scared, but there was an inch of excitement that bubbled in the belly. For years I had gone of my own missions, detective ones as a sort, but I had never expected to be in such a dangerous situation such as this. I was Mr Hatzardys, teenager and detective genius. I was designed for crime fighting, not child slaughtering.

My eyes scoured the room in search for an accomplice. My whole life I had always brought someone along for the ride. I thought for a second about my friend at home; Vent was an intelligent kid who had been friends with me since I was an infant. Whenever I decided to solve a mystery he was always with me (regardless of whether we were solving a murder or finding a lost cat). Now he was gone. Now I was alone.

They said that 'irreplaceable' didn't exist. Whilst I didn't entirely agree with that I tried finding a small replacement for Vent anyway. I immediately turned away from the Careers and scoured the room for somebody young and bright.

The Five boy didn't look very bright. The Seven girl didn't either, and her mask of make-up only added to her mask of stupidity. The Nine boy looked cunning, yet deceptive. The Eleven girl wasn't particularly eye catching. But there was one girl that seemed to light up the room-

Not in an attractive way. She wasn't the prettiest canvas in the gallery yet she was the most striking, so full of colour. I watched her intently before moving over to her table and sitting down.

"Do you mind?" I asked her, although I sat down anyway.

The girl's brown eyes flickered up as she twirled spaghetti around her fork. They observed me for a short yet tense second before she smiled warmly.

"Yes," she said. "You're the boy from District Twelve aren't you?"

"Vigil," I grabbed her hand and shook it frantically. "If you want to address me professionally do call me Mr. Hatzardys."

"Okay, Mr... Vigil," the girl smiled warmly. "I'm Helen. Known professionally as Helen."

I chuckled at her joke whilst looking to her expectantly. There was the inevitable question that I wanted to ask my soon to be accomplice, although the words were difficult to muster, as if I were asking her to sign her own death warrant. "You know... I think I'd like you to train with me, would you mind that?"

Helen scooped up the last spoonful of her spaghetti, devouring it hungrily before throwing her plastic fork onto the table and smiling at me. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

I smiled at her again before speaking the next few words out nervously. "And - well... Do you want to be allies?"

Helen choked and sputtered as soon as I made the request and I immediately felt my stomach lurch. I knew I had a genius level IQ, but why would a tribute want a lanky boy from District Twelve as an ally? Still, if Helen truly was dying because of my request I could perform CPR.

Although she eventually recovered and stood up. "Why would you want to be allies with me?"

"You're a talented woman Helen," I told her, linking arms with her and leading her to a fire making station with a wide grin on my face.

"I'm not strong, athletic or even pretty," Helen told me, still puzzled by my request as we strolled past the District Five girl, who looked at us as if we were strange or something. Strange? No, I wasn't strange - everyone else was bonkers.

"You're clever, though," I told her. She opened her mouth to argue, but I just spoke out so that she was shut up. "No! Don't deny it, young lady. You are like... The salt to my pepper, the music to my lyrics and the banana to my gorilla."

"Banana?" Helen frowned. "I'm not sure I want to be compared to a banana-"

"You're either salt or music, you choose," I said impatiently. "Now Helen - you're a clever girl and even though I can take care of myself I need somebody who can cook and do all survival stuff like lighting a fire."

"You can't light a fire?" Helen smirked, moving down to her fire making kit to show me how to light a piece of wood. She grabbed something that resembled a piece of charcoal and she began doing an art I had never mastered. "For somebody intelligent you're quite stupid. So whilst I be the housewife what do you do? I doubt you charge into battle, no offence."

"I do the detective work," I smirked.

"So you're Sherlock Holmes?" Helen asked, rubbing two pieces of wood so that the friction could produce heat and light a fire. I knew the theory to everything, but putting fire starting to practice was a bit complicated for me.

"Sherlock Holmes was an amateur," I retorted dryly.

"I love the Holmes books," Helen told me, her smile being warmed by the new fire she had started. She then put out the flames and stood up, looking at me expectantly. "Do you need any other survival tips Mr. Hatzardys? I doubt detective work will kill a Career for you."

"I have plans for that lark," I told her with a smile. "Though how good are you at rope tying? I'm sufficient, but I think I need a District Ten farmhand to show me the ropes - literally speaking, of course."

Helen giggled, moving over to the knot tying station with me. Her small, shy steps were much different from my more confident, free ones. "Do you know what I think, Sherlock?"

"Don't call me th-"

"I think you're not very independent," she told me as I grabbed a knot. I looked down at the floor with a little embarrassed blush creeping onto my cheeks. I liked companionship, but I didn't like to think myself as dependant on another person. I just liked balance.

"I am independent," I told Helen. "I live by myself."

"Where?" Helen asked.

"The Coals Fume," I told her. She looked puzzled, so I elucidated. "It's an inn in District Twelve. The Inn Keeper gave me a permanent residence there if I worked as a cleaner..."

"Oh wow, I wish I was alone and cool like that," Helen smiled as she twisted the rope in front of her into a complicated knot. I glanced at the knot with admiration, knowing that its tightness and strength would be fantastic for a trap. "What's cleaning like?"

"It's alright," I muttered glumly. "It's not like detective work though - I'm not designed for it."

"You're actually a detective?" Helen's eyes widened, but then returned their gaze to an instruction booklet. Helen successfully weaved another knot, and I knew that she was definitely a useful ally even though she wasn't athletic.

"Kind of unemployed in that department," I said. "My friend Vent and I had a private investigation firm. We were paid by citizens and Peacekeepers alike to make sure that District Twelve was a great place - my folks got fed up with it though... There was always a killer on the loose that I was after, or a stolen object, it annoyed them."

"Sometimes parents can be selfish," Helen sighed. "My mother was..."

"Not selfish, they were right," I paused as painful memories I held back for so long came back with a rush of blood to the brain. My hands clenched so hard onto the rope in my hands I could feel it digging into the flesh of my palms. "They kicked me out when... When it happened."

"It happened?" Helen saw the pain in my eyes, and she put a hand on my shoulder. "You can tell me-"

"I can't."

I thought of the time where I chased after a particularly nasty thief in a coal mine, speeding through the mines in a coal cart. I became too reckless and I crashed into another cart, and the last thing I remembered was darkness consuming me. When I woke up I only had a broken foot with a nasty scar on it, but I had received the news that a family of five had died because of that crash. That made my parents snap and kick me out, but nothing was worse than the pain. My confidence in my skills was shattered and every day became a day where I questioned my morality.

Helen stopped looking at me, and her gaze was directed to a manual about water which she read. I wanted to say something to her, but I knew she didn't trust me. Not yet anyway.

My gaze was instead directed at the edible plants section. I knew a lot about edible plants - I used to research their medical purpose for emergency first aid. At the plants section the Eleven girl was showing the Seven girl a berry, before squashing it and licking the juice. The Seven girl looked confused, but then burst into laughter when the Eleven girl said something that was supposedly amusing.

A lot of these tributes were by themselves, but slowly they were linking together like gas particles. Helen noticed it too, because she glanced at the Careers.

"Alliances are dangerous," she spoke. "For the other tributes and the allies themselves."

The bell rung and Helen smiled at me weakly. First day of training was over and I learnt a good few things, and that was always useful. "You're in an alliance."

"I was taking a risk," Helen admitted, and I had to feel sorry for her when I noticed that her hands were trembling with nerves. "Well, I suppose I ought to go."

"Bye," I smiled and moved away from Helen, moving as quickly and swiftly as I usually did. I was almost at the door when Helen - looking sick with nerves - called my name.

"Vigil," she said. "Please don't let me down..."

I opened the door of the almost empty training centre without further ado. It was probably rude, just leaving her alone in that room, but I didn't know if I could trust myself with Helen. She was fragile, that much was clear. I'd broken people before - I killed five people and my mind was plagued with it constantly.

"What's bitten you in the ass?"

I looked at Reed, who was in the elevator next to me. She twirled her brown hair around her fingers for a second. I didn't reply, all I did was close my eyes and listen to the hum of the rising elevator. With a ping the elevator doors slid open and I moved out.

For someone so tiny Reed speedy, and she was right in front of me with a scowl on her face. "I asked you a question, I expect an answer."

"You're hardly consoling Reed," I told her angrily. "Just leave me alone."

"I get sad too..."

"You're always scowling."

"Well I'm sorry," Reed was too small to grab my shoulders, but she grabbed my arms and used all of her strength to yank me back. I turned around and glared at the small girl bitterly as she spoke. "If you keep things bottled they're only going to eat away at you. I'm not going to kill you about it... Yet."

"How pleasant," I said, inhaling the air before talking. "Reed Ardice, have you ever felt like you're not good enough for somebody. Have you ever felt so... So closed... So horrid, you doubt you'd ever make them happy?"

Reed smiled. "Are you in love?"

I snorted. "No, love is for the whimsical and the insane. I'm just doubtful."

"Then prove yourself wrong," Reed shrugged as if I were an idiot. She opened the door to her room and her dull green eyes lingered on me for a second before she spoke. "If you think there's something wrong with yourself you should never let it continue like that. You gotta prove yourself in Panem Mr. Hatzardys. Nobody is going to change the bad for you."

Reed walked into her room, and her words kept revolving around in my mind. I didn't like the things I had done in the past, but I knew that I didn't like the paranoia and lack of self belief that followed. The worst part was that it would've prevented any chance of winning immediately. I moved into my room with a smile, thinking of Helen - she was a nice girl who didn't deserve to go into the Games. Neither were the other twenty two, but I was going to win it.

I had a secret - yet stupid - love for danger. It helped a lot when I needed to be brave, and I needed to have all the courage I could muster. I glanced out of my window into the star ridden sky, with all my thoughts focused on what the Games were going to be like. Adventurous, perhaps even quite fun with an ally by my side.

Despite my reassurances I knew that I was wrong.

"Hello," there was a knock on the door and my escort walked in. Lillian McNicks was a quiet but nice escort who instructed us in a voice that distinguished between warm and threatening. She was short with curly dirty blonde hair and a weak smile. "Are you okay Vigil?"

"Hm," I muttered, still staring at the sky.

"The stars are beautiful aren't they?" Lillian looked at the window before hesitantly stepping forwards. She held out a slip of paper shakily, trying to keep her voice steady. "There's a Hunger Games tribute guide here."

"What does it do?" I asked, watching as my breath turned into frosty looking condensation in the window, blocking the reflection of my mysterious eyes and slick, brown hair. It was weird to think that Helen and Reed would be dead soon. As a fighter of crime shouldn't I make sure everyone safe instead of focusing on my own survival? This was like a twist of fate that even I couldn't change.

"Tells you the procedure you'll be going through," Lillian said. "About scores and interviews, about their utmost importance. It also has the Games' rules on here - although there aren't very many..."

"Don't eat tributes, don't try to escape the arena," I rolled my eyes and turned to Lillian. "Anything else?"

"If a change of rules are announced they must be followed," Lillian told me with a weak smile. "This includes feasts, random announcements and/or Quarter Quell twists."

"Thanks Lillian."

"And it has information about the tributes..." Her voice quavered as she placed the slip of form down on a coffee table. "Reed found it interesting, I'm pretty sure you'd enjoy it too..."

I thought of the information in that leaflet as Lillian excused herself and walked out of the room; every word about those tributes was so important for survival, yet heart wrenching. The chill air from outside filled the room and allowed me to think of what I wanted to do - read about a victim's or killer's family, favourite colour or measurements? I didn't want to do that. The moment I knew the tiniest detail about a tribute was the moment they stopped being a faceless tribute and shifted into a person.

And my slight guilt for Helen still continued. She was too nice for her own good and I already had a brief glimpse of her life in District Ten - what if I knew everything about her before she was stabbed and killed? Could I live with that? Would it be as unbearable as the carting accident I had not so long ago?

I turned to the tenth page of the manual, looking at the pictures of Helen that were scattered over her info page. She was only fourteen and there were pictures of her as an infant and a smiling, growing girl around the random information the Gamemakers had typed. How could the Capitol look at pictures of a girl like that and still sentence her to death?

I frowned and disgust and made my decision. My hands curled up into the ball and I compressed the tribute guide into a small, rough sphere before throwing it in the flames, letting the embers soak up the essence of the paper before destroying it completely.

If only the Games were so easy to burn.

* * *

**Well...**

**Writing this is going to be a lot easier now, as school is out (but I still have exams - don't question the British education system, it's just ridiculous).**

**I still get a lot of reviews, but the amount has declined. You're either bored or you want your own/favourite character to die ;) only about 8-9 chapters until the bloodbath now. You know what - I won't update till I have 14 reviews, and I'll update as soon as I get 145 overall reviews - beat that ;)**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Did you like these two?_

Interview Question: What is your biggest weakness?


	10. The Practice

**Petunia Hines, District 11, 16:**

* * *

Broson stormed out of the room as soon as I sat down at the breakfast table, and I immediately had the awful feeling that he wasn't prepared to talk to me because of the pandemonium that was the chariot ride - it was his fault for trying to threaten me whilst I was dressed up as an orange.

"What's up with him?" I asked Edoire, our mentor. Edoire looked at me solemnly before shrugging; the poor guy was the only live Hunger Games victor except Jynx, so he was bound to be depressed.

"Might as well go to training," he sighed, glancing at me with his dark, droopy eyes. "I'd learn a weapon or some kind of combat if I were you... Just so that you could stand a little chance over the Careers."

I finished my bacon and toast, trying to analyse just what Edoire meant - a 'little' chance over the Careers still wasn't very convincing, but since I knew about plants and stuff I thought that learning something simple, such as knives, would have been a good idea.

I moved into the elevator. The girl from District Twelve was in it with me, and my hand pressed against the smooth golden button as the doors moved closed and moved down. Along the way the doors opened with a hum so that the Eight boy strolled into the elevator.

"Still frowning, I see," he smirked at the Twelve girl, who's frown seemed to deepen.

"I don't want to talk to you," she said, flicking her hair back and narrowing her cold eyes at him. "You're extremely irritating-"

"And handsome," Micah laughed.

I felt somewhat relieved when the elevator doors slid open to reveal the well lit training centre, so I made sure to rush out and avoid the bickering couple. After scanning the room for a couple of seconds my eyes finally met Violet, who was standing by a knife station.

"You have the same idea as me," I told Violet as I approached her. "I need to learn a weapon."

Violet jumped at the sound of my voice, and the blade she had been holding in her palm clattered to the ground along with some strange powdered stuff. She turned around, trying to conceal her strong blush.

"I was using it as a mirror," she admitted.

"You're so practical," I laughed. Violet giggled too, although her hysterical screams were a little bit melodramatic. I was always the jokester who had to make every situation comic, and although most people found my humorous attitude and my relentless optimism annoying, Violet appreciated it; that's why we were great allies.

"If you were in the Games what knife would you pick?" I asked Violet randomly as we looked through the arsenal of blades right in front of us.

"This one," Violet's perfectly manicured fingernails enclosed around a handle that was rich in rubies and sapphires. "I mean girls just love jewelry!"

"I love diamonds but that is something else!" My laugh bounced around the whole room, causing some tributes to stop training and peer at me. I liked to laugh a lot, but sometimes I didn't know when to stop - although I didn't care if I 'distracted' a group of solemn bores.

After looking at them all shamelessly I turned back to Violet and grinned. "Can you use that as a weapon or are you planning to bedazzle those Career hunks?"

"I totally wish, " Violet snorted. "Can you use knives?"

I grabbed the knife and threw it at the target. The attempt was humiliating, as the sharp knife hit the target handle first and bounced off. Violet grabbed a blade to mimic my action, but her attempt was even worse - as soon as she raised her knife to throw it the knife seemed to jump like a live wire, causing Violet to scream and fall back.

Some Career girl from One giggled close to us, and the handsome Four boy chuckled arrogantly too.

"Yeah, yeah," I told them. "Pick on somebody your own size, you cowards."

The two seemed to reply with an endless stream of insults, but I was more focused on getting Violet to her feet. I never really understood people like the Career lot; how could somebody get a kick out of causing pain? Violet looked at the Careers once before frowning.

"They're so horrible," she whispered. "Yesterday the Four boy was being really horrible to me and... Well, I was totally close to tears. I know it's embarrassing - but-"

"Ignore them," I advised Violet. "They're just glamourised bullies, really. People like that don't deserve anybody showing them fear... Just think Violet, you're a strong girl."

"I'm not."

"I'm not either," I laughed. "Feathers tire me eventually."

Violet giggled, but then her face was overcast by shadow. I turned on my heel to see a woman who wore a jacket stuffed with blades and numerous scars were carved into her face. Her thin lips puckered as she observed the two of us.

"I witnessed your mishap earlier," she informed Violet and I. "If you want I could teach you how to fight with a knife or blade before lunch."

"Yes, totally!" Violet said enthusiastically.

For the next few hours the woman taught us how to hold a knife correctly. I was alright, but Violet took ages to learn it. Eventually we were taught the basic fighting techniques - how to swing the blade and block attacks. I was much more graceful than Violet, but she had a bigger fire to her; once she successfully learnt how to fight close combat she was instantly better than me when we learnt the basic knife throwing techniques.

"Good Violet," the instructor said when her knife hit the target. It was quite far off the bullseye, but it had still hit the target nonetheless.

I already knew the stance for knife throwing (I had mastered it before Violet did) but when I actually threw the knife the weapon had a mind of its own; it soared past the target before hitting the metallic training centre walls. I laughed in time with Violet, who found the whole thing amusing.

"Don't lose your focus girls," the training instructor said crisply. I decided it was best to lose focus at that moment - these were my last moments, so why not have some fun with them? I hated people like the knife instructor; to them etiquette was compulsory and formality was equally important - boring!

My family were like that. I was raised by a rich family who were always focused on their reputation, though I didn't see them enough to adopt their lifestyle. My Aunt Cleo was the wild one in my family who looked after me, and I naturally adopted her fun, good natured lifestyle instead of the boring, polite one my parents had a preference for. Unfortunately my Aunt's wild ways had earned her a bullet to the head from the Peacekeepers who saw her as a criminal.

Even my disapproving family were devastated - they had just lost the light of the family. My innocence was lost that day; I awoke to the cruel world that wasn't all fun and games. Regardless, I vowed to brighten up District Eleven in the same way as my aunt did, and if I was going down her route (which I was, realistically) I wanted to go down it with style.

"En guard!" I jokingly grabbed a knife as Violet picked up another one. We giggled as we 'sparred,' though we made sure that we didn't actually score a hit on each other. The trainer's eyes almost popped out of their sockets in shock as she watched Violet and I swing the blades at each other, wincing every time the metal blades crashed and unleashed an iron screech.

"That is against the rules," she snapped as Violet jokingly thrust her blade forwards. I held onto my heart mockingly, slumping to the ground whilst making fictitious choking noises. Violet giggled, though the training instructor really wasn't amused.

"Leave immediately," she scolded. "Or I will inform the Gamemakers of your rule breaking!"

Violet and I laughed, though I knew when the shots were called so I leapt up, grabbed Violet's hand and lead her away as we giggled. We rushed past the District Nine boy as he eyed the two of us inquisitively.

"It is totally her time of the month," Violet smirked as we walked through the training centre, looking for a suitable station. Now that we knew the knife basics I was sure there'd be something interesting to find...

"Leave immediately!" I mocked our training instructor and Violet found that comment highly amusing. She giggled again whilst I looked at the swimming station. The Four girl was currently splashing around in the water, and I had to admit that she was ridiculously good.

"I can't swim at all," I told Violet. "So not there."

"It's cool, I went there yesterday," Violet said.

"I doubt you were as good as the Four girl."

"She's a strong swimmer," Violet told me as we watched the Four girl's arms push through the water so that her body sailed through like a torpedo. "She's not that good with weapons though, considering she's from District Four."

I never knew Violet was so observant, so I eyed her curiously. "I'm good at climbing, are you?"

"I'm alright," Violet said, but her eyes stopped when they looked at a woman in an apron nagging people who were flipping something around in a pot. "Oh my god - cookery!"

Violet lead me to the cookery station with a smirk on her rose tinted lips. I supposed I needed to know about cookery and other survival things anyway, so I sat down by a boiling pot which had a gutted fish in it.

"Now, now Vigil," the woman looked into the Twelve boy's pot with a tut. She was a plump woman who was very provincial in speech and attitude, though not in a Capitolian way - she was definitely foreign. "Ya' don't do that... No, m'love, the fish cannot be undercook'd"

"Loving the accent," Violet remarked as the Ten girl poured some herbs into her pot close to us. Whilst the instructor nagged Vigil she had nothing but praise for Helen, and as we joined in with the cookery session she praised my wide plant knowledge too; my great aunt owned a whole orchard and agricultural field, so I naturally knew a lot about plants.

The day went a lot more disastrously when the Twelve girl came over to the station, with the Eight boy following her like an obedient puppy.

"Go away," she hissed as she threw some rice and water into her pot. I was so distracted by their interraction I almost let the rabbit in my pan burn, though Violet warned me before anything went wrong.

"Will you go on a date with me if I do?" The Eight boy winked. He seemed like quite the joker, and I admired that he was up for a laugh at this grim moment. "Or just be my allies? Come on Reed!"

"No," Reed said bitterly whilst angrily hacking away at some carrots. "I can win all by myself and I don't need you-"

Just as she said that she almost cut through the carrot and into her finger, though she stopped herself. She stared at the knife which rested on her finger with a shocked expression before the Eight grabbed some random spice and threw it into the pot.

"Micah!" She frowned as the pot hissed. "That's cinnamon - you don't put it in with meat - oh god... It's ruined."

"No harm done if we put more in then," Micah said, grabbing some oil and squirting it into the pot. Reed cried out in frustration, trying to hold her composure.

"Are you potion making?" I asked Micah with a giggle, making sure that the instructor wasn't aware of the whole cooking fiasco - she was too busy helping Vigil to notice.

"I'm hoping for an explosion," Micah's brown eyes twinkled charmingly as he grabbed a vial of something and threw it into the brewing pot of horrors. "Bam!"

Ironically the pot exploded with Micah's words, making Violet (who was trying to read a food hygiene manual next to me) jump and Reed look very annoyed. As tufts of smoke drifted over Micah and Reed the instructor turned around to see what the maker of noise was, and once she saw their cooking pot (which was alight) she charged at the two with a red face.

"What have ye done?" She screamed. Sensing trouble I grabbed Violet's hand and we walked away as she continued screaming furiously. "Having fun? Your burnin' down me cookin' pot!"

"How about we act seriously this time?" I asked a shocked looking Violet, though I was still laughing hysterically at the woman's accent and outburst.

"Shelter making?" She asked, to which I nodded my head; I didn't have any idea on how to create any shelter, so I followed her to a kind faced man who taught us the basic principles of shelter making. Violet was pretty bored by his lecture, so she didn't learn too much, but I was good enough at it. I carefully wove strands of hay around each other as Violet looked at me.

"What's your District partner like?" She asked.

"An imbecile," I replied as I finished off the roof of the shelter. Sticks and twigs would have made the shelter more weather proof, but I had yet to learn how to string them together. "Why? What's yours like?"

"He's usually drunk at night and a bit... Sour," Violet said as I remembered the boy with the scar in her District. Thinking about the whole thing logically that scar had probably made the boy bitter. "But he can be nice sometimes." Violet paused as I finished the shelter, looking into it to make sure that it could hold two people in it. "Oh, and I asked because your District partner was coming this way."

"So this is your ally?" I peered up at a tall and burly Broson, who shoved Violet into the hay and forced the whole shelter to collapse on us. I spluttered as the hay invaded my mouth and nostrils, though Broson laughed nastily. "She's quite fragile."

"She's not an imbecile like you," I snapped.

"Yeah! Totally!" Violet agreed, though she kind of shot down my whole argument with her words. Broson looked at the two of us before shrugging and going off to a mace station.

"He is totally a jerk," Violet said as she fussily picked bits of hay out of her hair. I watched as Broson sat alone, reading a manual.

"He's lonely," I told her. "He's been like that his entire life. He doesn't deserve this Violet, none of us do."

The lunchbell rang and Violet and I moved over to the canteen; Violet wasn't exactly bright, but she was much more observant than she looked - her eyes were focused on the solo tributes, the group of Careers who were generally being hooligans, and the Twelve boy and Ten girl happily chatting away as they ate, at the Twelve girl caving in and laughing at a joke the Eight boy made and the Nine pair.

They were sitting together, whispering rather intimately and smirking as they devoured steak. It unnerved me that the Nine boy's steak was rare. I was further creeped out when the small Nine girl turned around and averted her eyes at me, so that they were instantly evil and demonic.

Chills crept up my spine and I realised that though the Careers were intimidating they weren't the only opponents.

* * *

**Archimedes Plutus, District 2, 17:**

"And I told him I had to lay down-" Astrid spoke, though I immediately interrupted her.

"You mean lie Astrid, you had to lie down," I corrected her as I held a goblet, filled to the brim with pomegranate juice. I looked over to the Careers, one by one, before smiling. "So did you do anything productive over our time?"

"I learnt... Erm, something about plants," Astrid said dismissively, grabbing a gravy boat and pouring it all over her roast potatoes with a grin. "And I scared tributes."

Astrid wasn't stupid, but she wasn't bright either. Her biggest downfall was her arrogance, yet I also sensed some kind of insecurity too. She was also undeniably good with knives, even better than the average District One girl.

"I learnt... Stuff, I dunno," Luster mumbled as I looked to him. Luster was above average intelligence, but I still hadn't figured him out yet - she seemed shy but strong, clever but silly, his personality seemed like a long list of contradictions that I could never quite solve.

"Naomi and I learnt some new weapon skills, swimming, climbing and we're doing survival afterwards," Melanthe said before I looked to her. Melanthe wasn't as bright as Naomi (although she was rather intelligent) - I could sense that Naomi was cleverer, but Melanthe stood a bigger chance because she was a fighter with a lot of common sense.

I didn't even ask Blaine what he did, he probably basked in his own arrogance throughout the afternoon. I trained to be fit and strong like any other Career had to, but I also made sure that my mental strength was intact too. Most Career tributes were bloodthirsty brutes who could only handle a sword, and I was tiring of the 'oaf' stereotype.

The Careers last year were idiots. Maximotus was intelligent but uneducated, Liane was the exact opposites, Tristan was a total imbecile, Katie was naïve and the pair from Four were of average intelligence. No-one bright in that group, but this year the Careers had a true genius.

I'd grown tired of unintelligent giants and psychopaths claiming the 'victor' title, and if a clever tribute did win the Games they were small, weak things who had a lot of luck on their side. I knew that I was the perfect median, and I would be renowned for my brains if I were victor.

I was also the best strategist one could meet. My strategy for the Games weren't definite, because if somebody went into the Games with one strategy they'd have nothing to fall upon; I had to look at every situation with a degree of neutrality. I glanced at my fellow Careers and knew that as their leader I could easily manipulate them now, so that made the controller of most of the Games' tributes.

My plan was already flowing more smoothly than I imagined, but what I needed to do was gain their trust. I had already befriended Melanthe and spoken to Luster (as much as you possibly could speak to the quiet thing). I could never befriend Astrid after clearly defeating her, but I knew I could devise something to get rid of her. Naomi seemed vulnerable and easy, as long as I spoke to her on a personal level.

And I had plans for Blaine.

Blaine was talking to Naomi about some novel she'd probably never read in her life, pretentious about his cultural knowledge as per usual. I moved over to him indifferently before smiling at him.

"You're an avid reader?" I asked Blaine, who nodded. "If you're into the more... Classic literature I suggest The Art of War by Sun Tzu - it's a good book for Careers to read, too, seeing as it's the perfect book for a tactician."

Blaine opened his mouth to talk, but I could tell he was taken by shock. "Well... Thanks."

Astrid glared at me as I grabbed Blaine's hand and shook it warmly. "I suppose I've been cold and cruel, but I truly do respect your tastes in art and literature - I suppose you like theatre and music too?"

"Of course," Blaine looked proud. What an arrogant fool - if he wasn't ridiculously skilled and strong I'd of made sure he died in the Bloodbath.

"My favourite Shakespeare is King Lear - ever seen it?" Blaine nodded excitedly. "Schubert is also my favourite composer; his art reflects love so vividly."

"I agree completely," Blaine smirked.

"Now I suppose you're going to train?" I looked over to the certain survival stations I'd need to go to, deciding against climbing and swimming as I was useless in those areas. I eventually decided to go to a water filtering station, deciding that it could be useful. Astrid followed behind me with a glare.

"I know what you're doing," she hissed. "I'm more intelligent than I seem."

I watched as Blaine effortlessly plummeted a spear into a dummy's chest. Naomi and Melanthe were still at the dinner table, eating and sympathising with each other. I smirked slyly before looking at Astrid, who truly was cleverer than she seemed.

"Don't pretend you're not planning to betray them too," I said.

"Of course I am," Astrid said stiffly. As bright as she could be she was ultimately very stupid. "But you just admitted you were betraying the Careers - you're manipulating them, aren't you? Lets see how long democracy votes you in as the leader when I tell them!"

Astrid stormed off, though she stopped in her tracks when I spoke calmly to her. "If you do that I'll tell them of your intentions too, seeing as you just admitted them to me."

"You wouldn't dare."

"No, I wouldn't dare," I smirked as I picked up a manual explaining the deadly bacterium found in water. "But you wouldn't either, would you?"

Astrid stood still with her jaw unhinged slightly. Checkmate. I always won a battle of wits, no matter the subject. I scanned through the page with a confident smirk before I turned to the District One girl, deciding that for the best I could only make a compromise.

"If you don't tell, I won't tell," I told her. "Now go and learn something useful, because unlike you I want to survive instead of messing around and doing nothing. Okay?"

Astrid gave me one last untrusting look before striding away. Despite the fact she had a lot of similar traits to a District One girl (snobbery, arrogance and a tad of vanity) her walk was strong and masculine. That made her more intimidating - Astrid wasn't afraid of breaking a nail to get what she wanted, that much was certain.

"I know all about water filtering, it helps a lot in District Four," a sweet voice said behind me. I peered around to see that standing there was Naomi, the District Four girl. Naomi seemed smart but I wasn't worried about her. I smiled stiffly before grabbing numerous chemicals and smelling them.

"It's basically a mixture of chemistry and common sense," I replied, grabbing a bottle of chlorine and observing it whilst holding a bottle of iodine. "Chlorine doesn't taste very pleasant though..."

"And it's poisonous," Naomi said

knowingly. "Are you worried?"

"About?"

"Dying," Naomi looked at me meekly as she observed a District Nine boy at the knife station; he was actually very good with knives, though he handled them wonkily he had a lot of power and aggression in his stabs. Interesting.

"I'm not," I replied indifferently whilst pouring some chemical in the water and shaking it slightly and sniffing the bottle to ensure that the chemical was properly diluted.

"You aren't definitely going to win though, are you?"

"It was wrong of you to assume I was unafraid of death out of sheer arrogance," I told Naomi whilst I poured a drop of water onto my tongue as a small test. "This is a game... If you lose, you die. If I die it's only a part of this fun game, but I'm playing to win." I walked off towards the sword station, sighing when Naomi was at my heels. "And death is inevitable anyway. Whether I win or not I'll die eventually, why should I worry?"

"Don't you think this is wrong?"

"I volunteered," I said bluntly. "Doesn't that say it all about my beliefs?"

"Not everybody volunteered though," Naomi told me. "Nineteen players were forced into this game Archimedes."

"Why are you talking to me?" I said as I brushed past the instructor ignorantly, grabbing a sword in one fluid movement. "This conscientious talk isn't enlightening me in any way, and it seems completely unrelated."

"Archimedes-"

"Call me Archie, Archimedes is too formal," I told Naomi as I swung my sword through a dummy's head, decapitating it instantly and swinging it through into another dummy's gut. Naomi backed away wearily, but she still spoke to me firmly as if I were her only hope.

"You're the Career leader Archie," she pleaded. "You could try and make us all win - you could save us all..."

Naomi looked affronted as my laugh stilled the whole room, and the following silence was only broke my the sound of sharp weapons slicing through the air and Naomi's small, cute sneezes as she looked at me hopelessly.

"Naomi, I'm the Career leader," I informed the girl whilst twirling my sworld around and dividing a small dummy into two pieces. "I'll get my Careers as far as possible, obviously, but I'm in this game to win it. I don't want to share victory." As I tore my sword into more plastic Naomi tried to talk, but I interrupted her. "Even if I was going to act like such a hippie I wouldn't even succeed in saving you all Naomi - this is the Hunger Games. There is only one winner. Good day."

Naomi's blue eyes began to swell up with tears, but she brushed them away with her little finger before she spoke to me once again, trying to halt the shakiness that rattled her voice.

"Thanks for clarifying."

As she turned to walk away I told her. "You could win, you know. Every tribute in this room is a contender until the moment they die."

Naomi didn't answer, she only rushed off quicker, probably because death was mentioned or something ridiculous like that. I watched as the Four girl moved over to the fishing station before I practiced on the sword station throughout the rest of the day, but it didn't do anything to improve my abilities - I was an excellent swordsman anyway.

I continued to observe the rest of the tributes whilst I trained; I knew my Careers' strength and weaknesses, but I knew that the other tributes had to of had strengths and weaknesses too. I made sure to eye them all keenly as they trained, just to observe them.

Karble had spent all day reading and talking to tributes. Physically he didn't stand a chance in the Games, but I had learnt long ago that words had a lot of power in them - I could only hope that that power wasn't used against me.

The girl, Danni, seemed to be an interesting technological genius. She was at the electricity station and wiring station throughout the day, controlling wires and such as if she were an electrical goddess. I wasn't worried, as I expected nothing more from a District Three tribute, but her uncanny ability to dissapear sometimes unnerved me quite a bit.

The Five boy spent most of his time at survival stations, trying to learn. I wasn't worried about him at first but soon I learnt that he was quite strong when he went to the weightlifting station - I should've known he was strong because of his build.

The Five girl was quiet and almost ignorable, but soon I managed to see just what she could create - traps. Some traps were complex and useful, and even I couldn't tell how she made them, whereas other traps were simple but very deadly. I made a note to kill her during the bloodbath so that she didn't scupper my chances of winning during the Games with those traps.

The Six boy seemed to mess around a lot during the day. He was skinny and weak, so I felt that he could die fairly easily. Unfortunatey he seemed like a bright young man.

The Six girl was an expert boxer who was quite tough. Her close combat skills were so good she could outmatch most, if not all, of the Careers. I decided that because of that she was a threat when I was weaponless, but otherwise she was ignorable.

The rest of the tributes were so dull I could barely note anything about them apart from a fair few - the Seven boy was naturally good with an axe, the Nine boy seemed like a savage, the Eleven girl was a speedy climber, the Twelve girl had some skill and the boy from District Ten could work magic with rope.

When training finished I rushed upstairs to my bedroom, happy that the training day had finished. All I needed to do was learn some survival things and then I was as prepared for the Games as somebody could possibly be. The best bit would be the Bloodbath, when I could kill the tributes who had caught my eye (so that they didn't cause any trouble later). So far the Five tributes, the Six girl, the Seven boy, the Nine boy and the Eleven boy were the ones on my hit-list.

I sketched out a map of what the Cornucorpia would most probably look like and sketched out some possible tactics before my pondering was interrupted by an angry scream - I had to restrain my eyes from rolling, because I knew that it was Jynx.

Probably Melanthe related, I thought as I walked out of the corridor with an angry expression. I saw that outside Melanthe's room Jynx was kicking at the metallic door furiously as she nursed a cut finger - when I saw the metal shake in its hinges I had to admit that Jynx had a remarkable amount of strength.

"She closed the door on me!" Jynx screeched at me. I looked at her calmly before eyeing the door and sighing.

"Do you have common sense?" I asked her as I knocked on the door. "Open the door Melanthe."

"What do you-"

"Jynx, you don't try to talk to a girl after you killed their mother," I told the purple haired mentor as I slammed my fist onto the door. "Melanthe it's Archie - I suggest you open the-"

"No!"

I rolled my eyes angrily. If tributes were going to be this dramatic and persistent in the arena heads were definitely going to roll. But then again, tributes were going to inevitably die, weren't they? And I had a feeling that it was going to be quite fun.

* * *

**I was only half joking about the review thing but... Woah, keep that up ;)**

**Training itself is almost over. If your tribute isn't in an alliance they will find themselves in one eventually; I usually build alliances up over time (hell, in the 202nd alliances were still building around the final twelve).**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: What tributes can you see forming an alliance?_

Interview Question: What is your strength? (Come on, don't be modest - I'm good at eating, that's my biggest strength).


	11. The Darkness

**Daymiun Atilia, District Nine Escort:**

* * *

My vision was blocked by the buckets of rainwater spilling from the clouds, slamming into the pavement furiously as many Capitol citizens frantically scrambled indoors as to avoid the wet weather. The only thing truly visible were the neon lights that illuminated the whole city and the big screens that were propped up onto towering buildings, playing Hunger Games recaps for all to see.

"It's nice to see you Daymiun," a woman with an umbrella said as she approached me. I managed to duck under her umbrella despite our considerable height difference. The people who were in the street gave us funny looks (because umbrellas were so two years ago) but I ignored them and continued walking with River.

"Hello Aunt River," I said to her. She smiled warmly back.

"Daymiun, my favourite nephew," she continued walking as her feet crunched into the grit that filled up the city streets. Plastic cups and smashed bottles still infested the road after the street celebrations of the previous night, and River scowled at it all. "How's your job going?"

"They think I'm a good escort," I said to River. In the background the sound of a girl from the one hundred and seventy third Games was audible, screaming as a sharp fanged man tore her ear off. Even though I had watched those Games the sound of tearing flesh still made me wince. "How's Charity?"

"She's fine," River sighed. "Still getting a lot of verbal abuse in school."

It was safe to say that River and her daughter weren't the stereotypical Capitol family. They hated the President, they hated parties, they hated the oppression in the Districts and they especially despised the Hunger Games. River was almost furious when I got a job as an escort for the Hunger Games but she gradually accepted it - in Panem a job was a job.

"Why do you still work?" River sighed as she stepped past a puddle of vomit that was being diluted by the rain. "You mentor District Eight?"

"District Nine."

"How can you look into their eyes and tell them that they're going to die Daymiun? Do you remember both of your tributes last year? They're dead now, aren't they?"

I avoided my Aunt's gaze, making sure to look out into the sky (I slightly regretted that when I stepped onto a mouldy sandwich). There was silence when I thought of Felicia, the nicest girl I'd met and the first tribute to die. Kieran had gotten pretty far, and though I didn't know him I knew him enough to say that he didn't deserve death at all.

"I have to keep this job Aunt River," I said as we approached the training centre building. River looked at me as if she wanted to say something, but she stayed quiet and laconic - probably to keep a secret safe. There were fleets of paparazzi who we had to push through, all of them desperate to catch a glimpse of the tributes. Eventually River kissed me goodbye and she melded in with the crowd, probably in the hope of flaring up one of her protests.

"Daymiun! What are your tributes like?" Voices screamed as I pushed my way through the front door, using finger print technology to ease my way inside the building whilst they screamed. "Do they stand a chance?"

One paparazzi tried to shove himself in, but the door slid closed and the man howled in pain. I pushed my way towards the elevator, ignoring funny looks that numerous members of staff had given me as I moved into the elevator.

Cardinal and Elise were dining alone this evening. Looking into their eyes and knowing that they'd die was too much for me to handle, it made me feel responsible for their future deaths and murders. Naturally I tended to avoid them and meet up with friends or relatives of mine instead, but this time I decided that they deserved my company and assistance.

They were dining with my personal Avox, Clarissa, who was a sweet faced woman with strawberry blonde hair. I knew that the Gamemakers liked to fatten up tributes before the slaughter so the two were probably still eating whatever food the Capitol had handed them.

As I opened the door to District Nine dining area I knew that I was quite mistaken. There was no sound of dinnertime chatter, just a scary state of quiescence. I tried to reassure myself that I was over thinking. When I walked into the dining room there was evidence of chaos - the dining room had shards of china littered across the carpet like shrapnel. I immediately knew that something was wrong-

"Elise?" I shouted, opening the door to her living quarters and searching through her rooms. There was no sign of her, Cardinal or Clarissa. I quickly went to barge through Cardinal's door, though I was prevented when I tried opening it. It was tightly locked.

I was about to rush to the phone and call the Gamemakers to report missing tributes, but through the solid metal of the locked door there was a distinguishable scream - it was slightly strangled, but a scream nonetheless. Immediately fearing the worst I grabbed a narrow clip that was left on an office desk beside the door and I clicked the lock open in one fluid movement.

So it seemed that Pre-Panem movies were right after all.

When the door creaked open I found that the bedroom was left cold and empty, but the muffled screams came from Cardinal's bathroom. They sounded feminine, and I automatically gathered that Cardinal was killing Elise... The shock burned in my limbs and I staggered towards the door, hoping that my thoughts weren't a reality. I always knew that Cardinal was willing to kill, but I never knew that he was psychopathic.

I opened the bathroom door slightly, squinting under the bright light being emitted from the ceiling. It struck me when blood trickled down the walls, and when I opened the door even more I had to stop myself from spewing out my dinner when I saw that blood had puddled the floor and filled the bath.

"Wow, so that's the intestines?" An evil yet high pitched voice giggled, sending goosebumps erupting around my flesh. Elise was alive and well.

But both her and Cardinal were the killers. Cardinal sneered as he threw a half dead girl across the room, and even though the Avox had no tongue she still managed to scream, though it sounded faded and feeble. Elise grabbed her carving knife and stabbed the girl in the stomach numerous times, not satisfied with her butchering until she tore the girl's innards out with her bare hands.

"This is the pancreas?" Elise asked Cardinal once the girl's pleads had ceased. She held the organ out in her little hands.

"No, that's the liver," Cardinal told her matter of factly as she turned the girl around and mutilated her innocent face. They had just killed Clarissa.

Knowing that the two were so indulged in their killing they didn't notice me I closed the door, collapsing to the soft, velvet floor in shock. My tributes were deranged, mentally ill - twisted. Were looks really so deceiving? I walked out into the corridor thinking about what my Aunt had said.

It was hard to look into the eyes of a victim, but it was even harder looking into the eyes of a murderer.

* * *

**Iopian Endovnier, District Eleven Mentor:**

Through the darkness of my room I caught a glimpse of the clock, sighing when I noticed that the big hand was firmly pointing at twelve o' clock. Though I had tried to sleep I couldn't, it was just too difficult.

I didn't want to take sleeping pills ever. I knew what happened to the past victors that took them once to sleep: they found that they worked and they became dependant on them. Too dependant.

So I was left as an insomniac. But I supposed that being an insomniac was a good thing; dreams were often based on ones subconscious, and I knew where my subconscious was, it would always be in the arena I spent two weeks of my life in. I didn't want to return to that arena, not even in my dreams - that place was worse than hell. Even with my eyes open I could see the Careers writhe in pain as they drank my poisoned goods, I could still feel the pain eat away at me.

And the worst thing was I was the only victor. All of them had been killed in the Quarter Quell (and it was a matter of time before I was called back), Jynx was cold and callous and Rayann had taken her win even worse than I had - every night my memories were poisoned with thoughts from the past, but Rayann must have been in a bad place if she voluntarily took her own life.

I glanced at the sleeping pills that were on my bedside cabinet. My mother had given me them before I went off to the Capitol to mentor, telling me that I needed them for sleep. Those pills could kill too, right? Swallowing all of those were just so easy - and it would end every painful memory.

My thoughts were interrupted when there was an angry cry, followed by the sound of something shattering. I only won the Hunger Games two years ago, but my reflexes were still sharp and I was out in the corridor instantly to find Petunia curled up against the wall, holding her bloody hand as Broson flung another vase at the wall.

"Go on, you coward!" She jeered.

"Stop now!" I snapped at Broson, shoving him away harshly before any more damage could be done. Broson cried out in shock as he found himself sprawled on the floor and I rushed over to Petunia, kneeling by her side and looking at the cut on her palm.

"The vase hit it," she told me with gritted teeth. "He's just bullied and taunted me constantly since the train ride. I've had enough of him!"

"Okay, it's only a skin wound," I reassured her before glancing at Broson sternly. "I'm sure you're aware that attacking tributes is against the rules until the Games starts?"

"And how pointless is that rule?" Broson snapped back, glaring at Petunia. "We're both going to die anyway."

There was an awful silence - the truth hurt, but it was never uttered until now. Petunia's attention was fixated on the small cut on her hand, as if she'd rather pay attention to that than anything else and Broson stood with his fists clenched, glancing at the floor before he stormed off in a fit of rage. I tried to call after him, but he ignored my cries and continued on anyway.

"Wait there Petunia," I told Petunia before standing and following the boy. As I approached the closed elevator I saw from the lights that Broson had ventured up to the roof of the building. I tried to contain my frustration whilst I slammed my finger into the button.

Since all the tributes were sleeping the elevator wasn't being used by anyone except Broson and I, so it didn't take long for it to return. I immediately rushed in and pressed the button that would lead me up to the roof, waiting anxiously as I ascended towards my angry tribute.

When the doors opened I saw Broson admiring the city view from the balcony, his auburn hair was being messed up by the fierce winds and his eyes glistened with the wet tears he refused to cry out.

"Is there something you need to say?" I asked Broson as I approached the railings. I wished I brought a coat; it was a chilly night.

Broson didn't react when he heard the sound of my voice. "Is there anything to say?"

"Sometimes situations can't be described with words," I nodded, watching numerous hovercrafts fly in the distance whilst the city was bursting with life.

"Do you ever think throwing yourself off the railing would be easier?" Broson asked inquisitively. "That all this pain and anger would go with one jump..."

"Everyone's thought that, some may not admit it - but we've all wondered, haven't we?" I said, thinking of how much I wanted to die after I left the arena - it was ironic, the fact that I had spent two weeks of my life fighting for my life and then spending the next year wanting to end it. "Death isn't the answer, Broson. You die when nature tells you to..."

"I'm going to die when a tribute wants me to," Broson said cynically.

I ignored him and pressed on. "This whole building is designed so that tributes cannot kill themselves. If you jumped an electromagnetic field - whatever that is - would only push you up again."

There was the sound of the elevator pinging, and though Broson ignored it I was suddenly attentive and alert. "What's the matter with you anyway, is it just the Games?"

"No," Broson sighed. "They're bad enough, but it's the fact I'm a bad person - all my life I've gotten a thrill from bullying. But now Petunia lets me know how hated I was in the District... When I die will people laugh at my funeral Iopian? Will they be glad I'm gone?"

"Of course not," I said, patting the boy's back.

"I wish I was a better person so that my mother had more good memories."

Broson stood up straight, looking into the distance - probably thinking about home. There was a moment of silence where the only noise was the wind's mournful cry, and then Broson straightened up and walked away.

I just allowed him to go. Sometimes it was best to work things out for yourself, but I'd figured out that Broson was a good man who had been troubled at some point in his life, but his troubles were only going to get ten times worse.

* * *

**Leena Prinz, District One Escort:**

"The scores are tomorrow and they are very important," I said, pacing around the room and looking to my tributes. Astrid was trying to wake herself up, but her determined gaze seemed tired. Luster was as groggy as ever.

"Is there any point to this?" Luster asked.

"Of course," I swiftly replied. "I want you all to get the highest scores out of the Careers so that they know who's boss - Astrid, I'm assuming you'll be the best girl score wise."

"Of course," Astrid nodded.

"Luster," I looked at the lanky One boy. "You have a bit more competition but I'm assuming that you could easily get at least a ten, yay or nay?"

"Erm..." Luster shuffled his feet nervously. "Well... Yeah, I suppose."

I flung the nearest object at Luster angrily - it was a wooden antique of some sort. Fortunately Luster's reflexes were sharp (rustier than usual due to his fatigue) and he ducked underneath the flying object, which hit the wall. Some people said that my methods of teaching were medieval, though I knew that my iron fists taught my tributes well and toughened them up.

"You will be determined!" I snapped to Luster, storming towards an old crate I had delivered to the building. "Ambition is key - if you think you'll get less, you will get less."

"Luster has the ambition of a dying slug," Astrid said keenly, straightening herself up in the vain hope of appearing taller than Luster. "Which is why I will ultimately win."

"Astrid is very arrogant," Luster told me. Though I was faced away from the tributes, trying to search for a key, I could envision their angry faces. "Isn't that how your tributes died last year Leena?"

"They were cheated," I snapped. "Otherwise they'd have won." I grappled around a draw before I felt my hands hold onto the stone cold, solid key. I withdrew it and grinned darkly. "Now dear ones, we're going to play a fun game..."

I turned around to see Astrid. She was awake now, on her tiptoes and ready to do what I say. Luster seemed nervous and tentative, but I was fairly certain that he'd enjoy this game - after all, he was silent. Silent people were always psychopaths.

I turned back to the crate and unlocked it, taking out numerous guns with plastic bullets (so that the people hit weren't seriously injured) and then withdrew a bow and arrow and knives - my tributes' specialised weapons.

I threw a belt of throwing knives at Astrid, as well as two close combat dual blades that were bent so that they looked like silver crescent moons. With a sigh I threw Luster one knife and then the bow and arrows. The tributes seemed confused, but I knew they'd enjoy training with me.

"There could be a gun in the arena," I said. "There was last year. You two need to learn how to dodge bullets and how to fight or disarm somebody with a gun - okay?"

"Considering the velocity of a bullet you can't really dodge bu-" Luster started, but then he howled out in pain when I fired a bullet into his foot. He jumped around holding onto his foot while it throbbed, and I laughed a little, swiping back my beautiful blonde tresses.

"Use your common sense," I muttered, aiming the gun at Astrid and firing. The aim was a bit off and a glass cabinet behind her was broken. I couldn't help but smile at it smashed, though Astrid was given a clear warning and she ducked underneath her table with a giggle.

"Well done Astrid, finding cover is an effective way to avoid bullets," I praised her, aiming the gun at Luster and firing again. There was a crack of sound and Luster cried out in pain as the plastic bullet bounced off his chest, inducing more pain.

Astrid found the whole think hysterical. She clutched onto her belly whilst her violent laughter twisted her stomach, tears of mirth dribbled down her face. I was just very exasperated.

"Luster you're being silly now," I patronised. "If somebody shot you with a gun you wouldn't be leaping around in pain, you'd be fighting back like a real man - like a warrior! You're a Career!"

Luster's eyes sparked with anger as I shot at him again, though this time it missed.

"Fight back you wuss!" I snapped. I didn't even see Luster's arms move as they blurred so fast, though somehow in such a short space of time he managed to fire an arrow. The weapons I gave my tributes were supposed to be used for disarming, but in his rage Luster obviously had other ideas; though I couldn't feel it an arrow had pierced my shoulder, and in another second blood was seeping out.

The room was deadly silent - Astrid stood up slowly, not daring to speak out or laugh. Luster was frozen as what he had done dawned into his mind his eyes decided to look anywhere but my shoulder. I attempted to speak out, but the pain slowly bit into me and I winced as the tears started to form in my eyes.

"Luster..." I spoke quietly.

"What were you thinking?" Astrid turned to Luster and glared at him nastily. "You're-"

"In lots of trouble," I grabbed the arrow and tore it out of my flesh, crying out in pain and collapsing to the floor as more blood gushed out of my wound. I glared up at Luster again, anger still burning in my eyes. "You're in lots of trouble."

* * *

**Marukilla Ambumzilla, District 3 Escort:**

The elevator doors slid open and Danni and I stepped out into the dimly lit training centre, trying to distinguish what was what; in the smooth darkness everything seemed invisible, though I could make out the outline of different stations.

Danni seemed nonexistant next to me, as if the intimidating shadows were her natural habitat. She decided to disturb my beauty sleep (and seeing as I was a boy I needed extra beauty sleep), complaining that she was hungry. All the food from the fridge was gone, the avoxes all seemed to be unresponsive when I rang for them, and that was very strange. Naturally I suggested that the best place for food was the empty canteen in the training centre!

"I prefer the training centre at night, when it's silent," Danni whispered as we narrowly avoiding falling into the swimming pool.

"I don't like it," I told her. "Anyway - I never did discuss training scores..."

"There's no point," Danni said. "I won't do well. And even though you've been complimenting Karble's charisma he won't get more than a five - you and I both know that."

"Stop being so negative," I scolded. As we avoided a battalion of tables it became obvious that we were in the canteen, and I moved into the kitchen, opening the freezers and taking out ice cream and other frozen goods. I hated the numb feeling that bit into my palm, so I immediately handed bags of frozen goods and tubs of ice cream over to Danni.

"Go upstairs with these," I told her, rubbing my purple hands together in the hope of creating some kind of warmth. "I'll get the other food later."

I never recalled Danni being fast, but she smiled at me one last time before she sprinted into the shadows and disappeared completely. I hated it when she did that - it was creepy, though it would help her in the Games. The elevator rang out, and I was satisfied, knowing that Danni had safely gotten into the elevator.

Though as I opened the fridge and grabbed various fruits I heard the elevator ring out again.

"Natalya I'm glad you came - though you should have brought your father."

The voice was high pitched and horrid. I instantly linked it to the voice of my fellow District One escort, Leena. I wondered what the two were doing here, though soon their casual conversation gave all of their intentions away.

"My father doesn't wish to arrive for such trivial matters," Natalya's poisonous voice spoke out. "What's wrong Leena? Is this rebel you spoke of the reason you have a wound on your shoulder?"

"Not quite," Leena said bitterly. "All I know is that the rebel is in the room now - he or she has been posing as a worker here and they must be executed."

Were they calling me a rebel? No! I quickly stuffed all the fruits in the fridge, rushing off and leaving the door open. As I dashed into the training centre I nervously ducked behind a tree, which I assumed was part of the camouflage station, and looked at the people in the room.

Leena wore a nightgown, and her blonde hair swept over the bandage on her shoulder. Natalya stood next to her, wearing a skimpy party dress that complimented her short, spiky black hair. There was a man next to them wearing the sacred Gamemaker robes - I recognised his beard, and I vaguely remembered him being in charge of security in the building and - later - in the arena.

"Manny, what did your cameras pick up?" Leena asked.

Manny replied in a gruff voice. "She'd been posing as an instructor." I sighed, thanking god that I was born a boy. "Earlier she'd snuck into the cellar where the prisoner was being kept."

"What prisoner?" Leena asked with a gasp.

"Shut up," Natalya told Leena. "And then?"

"I got assistance from Leena to help find this sneak," Manny spat. "We could tell from earlier conversations recorded that this woman was a rebel who planned to free the tributes and tell the world of the prisoner..." He reached for his gun and grinned. "We chased her into the room... And then..."

He moved his flashlight over to my station, in hope of finding the woman. I closed my eyes and muffled my whimper as I shrank into a ball to avoid the light. Luckily Manny switched his torch off and I was sheltered in the shadows once again.

The three walked away, scouring the room, though nothing happened until Manny got close to the knife station. My heart raced as he cried out, and a woman with scars over her faces jumped out and grabbed him from behind. The other two immediately reacted and I watched the scene closely as tears of fright slithered down my face. Manny used his strength to hurl the girl over his shoulders, and the grey haired woman cried out as her body was forced into the hard floor of the training centre.

"Nice try," Natalya laughed and aimed a gun at the girl's forehead. Leena tutted disapprovingly as Manny held the girl in place so that she didn't use her flashy combat tricks again.

"Scum," the rebel cursed. "I know about Rayann - just you wait until I tell everybody in the prison."

"Prison?" Natalya laughed and stroked her gun lovingly. "Honey, you won't be going to prison." Her words confused me, and the girl's face looked puzzled as Manny held his grip onto her neck - but then it all made sense. I almost screamed while Natalya aimed her gun at the girl, pulling the trigger quickly. There was a bang and the girl slumped to the ground as blood seeped over the floor, her face forever holding her last perplexed expression.

"Keep your mouth shut Leena," Natalya told the shocked escort next to her. Leena was a nasty piece of work, but even she was surprised as she looked at the corpse. "Or I'll shoot you too."

"I'll call a cleaning Avox here," Manny said nonchalantly, walking off with the other two girls. "They've already had to clean up a corpse in the District Nine quarters - a bit of a messy night tonight, isn't it?"

Manny couldn't have said what I felt better, only I felt that tonight could have been a whole lot messier if I were caught.

* * *

**Let's aim for 200 reviews!**

**Also, training is almost over... ;) the bloodbath blooms closer and these deaths were very, very brief teasers of the moments to come. I just added violence in to satisfy you bloodthirsty creatures.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Which District this year has the strongest tributes?_

Interview Question: What's the worst injury you've had?


	12. The Preparing

**Dannielle Wright, District 3, 16:**

* * *

"Marukilla, are you okay?" Karble asked our District escort. Ever since he came back from his midnight snack journey last night Marukilla seemed like a dishevelled, blubbering shell of a man. His painted lips were curled into a frown and he tried to stop the tears from running down his face.

"Darlings," his hand was raised up in an overtly feminine manner as he observed us. "Just go..."

Karble left earlier than I did, as I hated entering whilst the tributes weren't distracted - that way all of their eyes were on me. I had a cold exterior I liked to hide behind, but I was an awkward person who struggled to make friends and the thought of having to go out and face people made me rather nervous. So I'd enter whilst the tributes were busy training or learning so I could slip in undiscovered.

Shadows were a beautiful thing. Over the years I had kind of learnt how to fade into the background and shadows were the perfect mask, with the dark shrouds I could crawl away from the light and from the cruel eyes of others. A lot of people remarked that I tended to disappear, and I liked it that way.

"I'm going now," I told Marukilla an hour later once I had finished a sugary bowl of cereal. Marukilla's heavily lidded eyes observed me for a second and then he burst into tears again.

Capitol people were strange, weren't they?

As I entered the training room my ears were exposed to all the children; the alliances that had formed were all chattering away happily, as if they weren't fighting to the death. The Careers were all thudding their weapons into one dummy or another whilst laughing stupidly, and there was the background noise of a knife soaring into the air, a tribute splashing through water or the warm cackle of a flame.

I made sure that nobody had noticed me, and thus walked around the edge of the training centre where various climbing walls, obstacles, stations and stalls provided me with a sufficient amount of shelter. As if I were a vampire I jumped into the darkness and walked along, as if I were trying to find some sort of prey. I paused when my eyes were fixed upon Karble, trying to talk to the girl from District Six.

"Why aren't you talking to me?" Karble asked, looking slightly dejected; Karble obviously wasn't used to people having no response to what he was saying. The girl did some signs and gestures with her hands and Karble looked confused. "What?"

"She can't talk," I told Karble bluntly, stepping out into the exposing light. Karble and the Six girl jumped and that made me grin - I loved it when my stealth made people jump at weak, fragile me, though the feeling soon wore off when I felt every person's glance directed at me. The only people looking at me were Karble and the Six girl, but it felt like there were many others.

"What do you mean?" Karble looked a little annoyed as the girl slipped some boxing gloves on and pummelled a punching bag. I could tell from her punches that the Six girl was a professional, and that was the kind of person Karble and I needed as an ally.

"I have no idea," I honestly said. "I know a little sign language though - I took it in school, but I'm a bit of an ameteur."

"Sign language?" Karble slipped on some boxing gloves before firmly stepping forwards, trying to convince himself that he was a fighter. "Wouldn't it be easier if we played charades?"

The Six girl looked very angry, and her fist collided with the punching bag so strongly the red bag rattled in its chain, threatening to collapse. I gave Karble a warning look before looking at the girl.

"What's your name?" I asked her. With the gloves around her fists she seemed unable to sign, so she slipped them off and moved her hand - I didn't know many words in sign language, but I knew the alphabet. A-B-E were the letters the girl used.

"Abe," I said to Karble.

"Abe?" Karble grabbed Abe's hand before he showed his pearly white teeth to the tribute in front of him. "Well Abe it's a pleasure to meet you and communicate with you-"

"I want you in my alliance," I told Abe. I didn't sugarcoat things like Karble - I lacked the charismatic ability - but I could be honest to her. I did expect rejection though, seeing as I was unable to make any friends back home in my own District. I didn't expect to be popular in a fight to the death.

"I was going to ask that," Karble's lips tightened before he fussily straightened the ridiculous quiff in his hair. "Danni isn't the nicest person-"

"I'm honest," I shrugged. "And I can communicate with you."

Karble looked rather agitated. If this were a debate about the economy or crime rates he'd be winning by a long mile, but Abe was won over by honesty and that seemed to be a trait that many politicians lacked. Abe looked at the both of us, and her dark eyes squinted into mine.

And then she turned and shook Karble's hand lightly. Karble grinned smugly to himself, and I accepted it - Abe wanted somebody who sugar coated their words. I looked at Abe one last time, for she was my opponent now, though she stopped me when I was close to stepping into the shadows again.

Her hands gestured for me to come closer, and so I did. Both Karble and I looked confused by the whole situation, but it all became clear when Abe smiled uncertainly - she wanted both of us to be her allies.

"I never expected this," Karble admitted.

"Me neither," I shrugged. "The more the merrier I suppose. So as an alliance I guess we have to decide what we're going to do. We need the best scores we can get so that sponsors could supply all of us - my electricity skills could get me an okay mark."

"Marukilla told me my chariot performance has gotten me flocks of sponsored," Karble gloated, though he didn't dare mention his training score - his ultimate weakness was his physical weakness. Even as he punched the punching bag he looked like a plucked chicken moreso than a fierce warrior.

"Do well in the interviews," I told him. "Could you box like that in the training sessions Abe?"

Abe nodded determinedly, her eyes twinkling as she realised that she had an ally; I noticed that Abe - despite not having the ability to vocally communicate - was fascinated by communication. As Karble and I chatted, gossiped, argued and bickered she watched our conversation intently, paying attention to the slightest movement our mouths made. I knew that Abe could have been more unfortunate; there was a blind girl in the Games last year after all, but I still felt sorry for her.

I was an introvert, but I used words to express my shyness and my shadows to escape. Abe didn't have any words, she only had shadows, and if the shadows grew inside her for too long the only think she'd eventually know was the darkness of the world. As we moved to the electronics station I grabbed a couple of wires and investigated them before smiling.

"We need an overall plan," I told the other two.

"Well... I'm not sure if you could rely on me but-"

"And we can't talk Careers to death, Karble," I bantered with my District partner. I supposed the slight teasing indicated that I was beginning to relax with my new allies, though I still expected one of them - especially Karble - to stab me in the back at any given point.

"We have Abe's boxing," Karble continued, ignoring my harsh remark. "If you can get some wires or electrical things that would be great Danni - that way we have a weapon, and a powerful one at that if you could re-direct large voltages-" Karble wasn't a technological genius like I was, but he did know a lot about electricity and technology seeing as he was an intelligent boy from District Three. "But do we grab anything at the Cornucopia?"

"I'll grab something small, just in case," I told Karble.

"Why would you do that?" Karble asked. "You'll charge into battle and automatically be a target."

"We might need supplies, they'd be a lifesaver," I said as I toyed around with some of the wires indifferently, flicking a switch to turn the electricity on. Abe's dark eyes were set on me as I continued talking. "You don't have to get anything."

"I won't," Karble told me.

Soon the District Six boy walked over to us. He appeared out of nowhere, kind of like me, with a smile on his innocent face. It made me guilty and even angry when young tributes like him and the District Nine girl skipped along, as innocent as ever and destined to die.

"Hi Abe," he beamed, purposely blinding his eyes of Karble and I. I sensed that he wasn't a massive peoples person despite his wide smile. "Are you okay?"

Abe smiled and tousled her District partner's hair. As much as I felt sorry for the kid I knew that I didn't want him to join the alliance, that would be too hectic and too much. I looked at Abe expectantly before speaking to the District Six boy as nicely as possible.

"Look kid-"

"Holden," he informed me.

"Dannielle let me do the talking," Karble gave me a look that told me our thoughts were mutual. He crouched down a little so that he was looking into Holden's green eyes before he talked to the little boy. "I know you're lonely, I would be too, and you deserve an alliance - but I'm afraid that alliances can't be too big in the Hunger Games, you know that right? We'd love to be your friend, but we can't."

Holden blinked. "I'm not a baby."

"You get the gist, right?" Karble's neauseating sweetness was swept away in an instant, and he looked to the little Six boy as if he were a rival moreso than a child

"Of course, I'm not a child - although the way you spoke to me indicates that you're extremely immature," Holden's fresh, pink lips curved into a mischevious smile. "I didn't come for an alliance. I like Abe so I came to talk to her - is that a problem?"

"No, ignore-" I tried fixing Karble's mistake, and Holden turned to me before he walked off. His focus was frozen on the wires I was turned away from before he spoke out loud. "I'd watch your wires too. They're going into meltdown."

I turned around and groaned whilst the hissing, powerful electricity began to attack and melt the wires in front of me, reducing them to a steaming puddle of plastic. I was great at keeping calm, but in massive frustration I grabbed another wiring set and threw it to the floor so that it smashed; I was usually good at keeping the peace, but I was a natural perfectionist who easily got frustrated whenever I made a mistake. The District Six boy was probably as weak as he seemed, but I was pretty sure that he was more intelligent than most of the tributes.

"So what other alliances are there?" Karble asked, and Abe immediately scanned the room, pointing at various people. She pointed at the big group of Careers, the Nine tributes, the Eight boy and Twelve girl who were talking by the plant station, the Ten girl and Twelve boy who were practicing with a bow and arrow and the giggling girls from Seven and Eleven.

"Interesting," I muttered. After practicing at the electrical station once again Karble decided that he wanted to learn a weapon so that he could get a half decent score, so we moved over to the archery station and practiced. I tried archery yesterday, though I was awful at it (I was okay with a knife, though I wasn't the best). Abe tried and she was atrocious, she couldn't even fire a bow without the arrow clattering to the ground.

Karble was okay - he wasn't fantastic either. He had mastered his hold on the bow pretty well after an hour, and it took him a long time to learn how to fire correctly too, but after two and a half hours he could hit the target, though his accuracy was a bit rusty due to his eyesight.

While Karble practiced and Abe tried and failed to work a bow I thought back to my family - my father, who I played chess with a lot, my mother who was exactly like me physically and personality wise. I thought of my popular, boisterous brother and wished that I could have made things up with him.

How would they react if I died? I wasn't naïve; I was fighting for my life to save myself, but I knew that it was likely that I would die at some point or another - even second place means death, and that was a pretty scary thought. My father had been married before my mother and his wife died of cancer, and even though he was happy with his new family the depression still plagued him sometimes.

Would my death affect him like that. Would my memory be like a cancer that ate him up inside? I knew that for him I had to win. But didn't everybody else have a drive to win? Karble wanted to return home to continue that job he spoke so highly about, Abe probably hoped that the Capitol surgeons would fix her voice-

Everyone had a drive to win, but the victor would be the one who had the most powerful drive or the most skill - I wasn't the smartest tribute, the fastest, or the strongest, but that didn't mean I was going to give up just yet. After an uncertain pause I turned to Karble and Abe with a lukewarm smile.

"Want to go to the knife station?" I asked them.

We all went to see if we could learn something to do with knives, though Abe stopped and looked to something on the ground curiously. Karble continued walking to the knife station obliviously, but I noticed that there was a conflict of sorts raging on in Abe's mind.

"What's wrong Abe?" I asked her, squinting to see that there were dots of blood peppered across the floor. Though Abe looked puzzled I grabbed her arm and lead her away reassuringly.

"Don't fret," I told her. "A tribute probably just hurt themselves or something."

Whilst training with knives (both Abe and Karble were hopeless with them; Abe lacked the grace and Karble lacked the fire to fight with blades, although my skill was manifesting more by the hour) I noticed that the instructor with the scarred face had been missing all day. That was suspicious.

I tried to ignore the blood and the missing woman, but a part of me couldn't help but suspect that the blood, the missing instructor and Marukilla's outbursts had some kind of correlation.

I could only hope that I was wrong, but it seemed that the violence had started before the Games had even began.

* * *

**Leonardo Brydon, District 10, 16:**

The girl in front of me watched the chemicals in the test tubes with an indescribable passion swimming in her bright eyes, so eager to learn and associate herself with science. I was a bright guy who did well in school but even science was such a complicated thing, and seeing Tarren from District Eight manipulate it without a second thought struck an interest from deep within me.

My new take on the new girl was a biased. The other day whilst I was at the herb station I heard the District Seven girl gossip with the Eleven girl - and they briefly mentioned that the Eight girl had Aspergers. Ever since I felt a spiritual connection with the shy girl from the textiles industry.

Every time I looked at her I saw Blakely - it seemed like a stupid comparison, considering that Blakely was much taller and older than this meek girl. I supposed the only similarity was that they both had Aspergers syndrome, but I saw a piece of him in her.

Whilst the girl manipulated the elements with beakers in her hand she suddenly noticed me. Her eyes narrowed and glared, but I didn't respond until she spoke out cold words.

"Why are you watching me?" She said stiffly.

"I-" I tried explaining myself, but the girl interjected curtly.

"Some would say you're a stalker," she looked at me again, more indifferently, before pouring a chemical into a beaker with another substance in it. The two immediately reacted and fizzed, and I could tell from the girl's small grin that she had done something right.

I tried to make my connection with the Eight girl abate, but I was acutely aware that that was impossible - I knew that as stoic as I could be I had a strong hero complex, and I tended to be much too prudent for my own good. If I ever died in the Games it would be down to my overprotective nature, but who was I to live over more vulnerable children than me?

"Are you trying to blow something up?" I asked the girl, the words pouring from my mouth before I could control them.

"I'm making acid, actually," the girl said bitterly. I moved close to her so that I was at the station and I noticed that she was immediately stiff and her manner was accusing; she didn't trust me.

"How do you do that?" I smiled. "Could you melt people with it?"

The girl slowly but tentatively began to ease. People often told me I had a calming influence, and right now it was working in my favour.

"Well - you can burn people," the girl told me, grabbing a piece of metal and throwing it into the solution, watching as it jetted around the water and fizzed. "I suppose that would be my weapon... Burning people. It would be entertaining for the crowd back home."

"Painful for the victim," I added.

"So would being stabbed," she reasoned. "This is the Games - if you're not planning on dying you're planning on going through a lot of pain. Do you ever wonder why some tributes voluntarily step off their plates and permit themselves to the wraith of the land mines?"

"That's quite deep..."

"I don't do deep," the girl said sincerely, brushing some of her hair back and giving a blue chemical compound a scathing look. "The world doesn't run deep - it's a shallow place, isn't it? It's a clockwork of logic and nothing else. Humans developed emotions eventually but we're just atom and matter, this whole universe is atom and matter that follows the rules and principles. That's why politics, philosophy and poetry are a load of garbage-"

I winced as I thought of Katya, my beaming sister who loved books and poetry. She didn't read much of it anymore, not after the horrible incident that shattered her smile. I didn't like to think of her as a 'victim' - not after that beast of a boy forcefully molested her and took her, but weren't we all of victims? I was a victim since the moment my name was called. My dad was a victim as soon as he had been involved in a horrific accident that rendered him with a broken back. Even the Capitolians were victims, manipulated by their media so that they supported such an outdated festival that was responsible for gallons and gallons of blood and tears. Everybody was a victim.

I was an optimistic person; it was part of my charm, and it helped me cope with the hardships of my unfortunate family and the District, but was forcing such happy illusions into my head what was right? Would it be best if I just saw the world as matter that followed scientific rules like the District Eight girl?

"Why are you crying?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" I said, not noticing the single, salty teardrop that moistened my cheek.

"Nevermind," she shrugged. "So what's your name?"

"Leo," I said, picking up a manual and reading some chemical formulas that were supposedly designed to ensure my survival.

"I'm Tarren."

"Cool."

There was a silence as we worked at the chemical stations, learning how to make paralysers, poisons and flammable gases. After days of learning about things as mundane as plants and water it was almost a relief to learn something that could be used as a weapon, but with every new acid made I pictured a tributes' melting face, with every new gas made I saw somebody suffocating-

I already knew what I was going to use as a weapon - rope. It sounded silly, but after working in the ranches for years on end I knew how to work a rope well, even as a weapon. I could use it to lash tributes around or even strangle them, that was a scary though that sent shivers down my spine; I hoped that I didn't have to kill to win, but that was ridiculously naïve.

"I like you Leo," Tarren said out of the blue, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned to her and smiled, holding her hand and shaking it warmly. The sudden contact wasn't pleasant for her, but she weakly shook my hand with me as our eyes met. I had held onto the girl's attention, but now I needed to remind her why she trusted me.

"I like you too Tarren," I said, turning away from her and smiling. "What have you learnt over the past few days?"

"Not that much, honestly," Tarren said. "I re-revised a load of science for the fun of it. I learnt some basic weapons but I was no good at them, science is my weapon now." Tarren's pale fingers immediately grabbed onto her token, and she stroked it affectionately with a sigh. "I learnt some survival stuff but telling the difference between nightlock and a inkleberry isn't going to save my life, is it?"

"Never know," I shrugged, watching the Twelve girl throw some knives at a target, she was tentative but still fantastic. Her accuracy couldn't be insulted, and though she probably paled in comparison to the Careers I felt that she was one of the more dangerous tributes.

Tarren noticed that my gaze had wandered. "It won't defend me from the likes of her."

"I could."

I almost regretted saying such words, and I had to stop myself from hitting myself for my stupidity. Tarren remained calm, though her subtle expressions burrowed slightly in confusion. I tried to pretend to be interested in a boring manual about the uses of salt, but Tarren grabbed my hand and looked me right into the eye.

"Death isn't too bad," she told me. There was something wild about the way she spoke, as if jailed emotions were rattling in their cage and threatening to escape. "It's just the biological shutdown of an organism really, isn't it? It's a natural process that I'm indifferent to, but I'm scared Leo - I'm actually scared. I want to live, I want to explore science and do something with my life... But this..."

I held the babbling girl close, trying to comfort her. The contact startled Tarren, and it roused a lack of comfort within her, but she caved in and held me close whilst thinking of what the future held for her - for me. We were allies now, and that meant that we worked together.

"We do need to split up when it's the final eight," Tarren almost broke the unity when she said this at the electrical devices station. "Lets be practical for practicalities sake!"

I reluctantly agreed, deciding to leave out the fact that there was a big chance that neither of us would make it to the final eight, unless we were very fortunate or any of the plans we came up with were miracles. Once again I thought of home - My mother hadn't worked a day in her life and my father's disability prevented him from doing so. I was the only worker at home, they were dependant on me; I told Katya and Blakely would try their best to keep the family going, despite the scars and setbacks they held.

"Test me on chemistry," I asked Tarren whilst she worked on wires.

"Chemistry isn't my thing..." Tarren blushed. "I'm the best in my class, but I'm better at physics. And my physics knowledge is feeble compared to my mathematics knowledge..."

"Maths?" I smirked. "Aren't you a little Einstein."

Tarren's lips almost threatened to crease themselves into a small smile, but she made sure not to - I didn't think I had such a privilege yet. "Yes but it wouldn't help much. Knife add head equals death - that's the equation of the Hunger Games."

"Don't fret, you're still good at science," I threw some notes on the table closest to Tarren. "So test me?"

"We'll start simple-" Tarren smiled. "What's the most reactive element?"

"Francium," I quickly replied. "It's the bottom of the group one metals and it's the most-"

An empty laugh filled the air, and suddenly the atmosphere was impregnated by an indescribable coldness. Sitting on a station close to us was a tall, skinny girl who observed us under her large spectacles. When she noticed we were looking at her she stood up and gave us a cold look.

"What?" She said. "I'm laughing because he got it wrong."

"Well francium reacts with air and water very well," Tarren said acridly. "It could even cause an explosion-"

"You're a clever girl," the girl looked at me as if I were a bad smell before looking at Tarren again. "The most reactive element is fluorine - It's the most electronegative element by virtue of which it has a strong tendency to gain one electron and attain an octet electronic configuration."

"But..." Tarren had no argument, although it was a miracle that she actually understood the District Five girl. "It's none of your business."

"Of course it is, numbskull," the girl turned to walk away with the same old blank expression on her face. "I'm the daughter of scientists, therefore I educate those of inferior knowledge such as you. And if you plan on using francium as a weapon it'd go against you, seeing as it would react immediately - it's radioactive and it'd be rather painful, it is an alkali metal afterall."

What an arrogant, dislikable girl. "Okay. Thanks for your input."

"Call me Ava," Ava shrugged. "Although I doubt you'll ever talk to me again - if another tribute doesn't kill you then science will," she laughed rather coldly. "Bye."

There was an icy tranquility that pasted the air, and Tarren furiously read a book about reactivity, desperate to find something that would prove the District Five girl wrong. I watched as she turned the pages at lighting speed, longing to find any kind of defence. The bell signalling the end of the last training day rang and Tarren gave out an angry cry before slamming the book shut and looking at me.

"What a nasty piece of work," she muttered. "Just wait until a Career gets her."

A deep, nasty feeling inside me told me that though she looked weak she really wouldn't be that easy. I smiled frailly at Tarren before grabbing a manual close to me and pocketing it.

"Scores after lunch," I sighed. "You worried?"

"No," Tarren said honestly. "My score will inevitably be low."

"Don't worry," I smiled and thought of the rope that would be in the training centre before sighing. I think I could impress the Gamemakers enough to get at least a seven - that would benefit me massively. "I'll score high for the both of us."

Before I turned to leave Tarren grabbed my hand, which surprised me because she usually initiated any contact, but this time she had. Tarren stretched out my palm and then pressed her own against it for a brief second, I didn't understand what she was doing - it looked as if she was comparing hands, but she did it anyway. About a nanosecond after the contact she then pulled her hand away as if my flesh was red hot, looking disgusted with herself.

It almost made me wonder what was going on in her head.

"Bye," Tarren said abruptly, before scurrying to an elevator on the other side of the room.

Soon I was going to be in front of the Gamemakers, showing them just how capable I was of fighting and surviving - that thought was sickeningly scary and shocking; I knew that I wasn't one of the small, skinny tributes who weren't capable of surviving but I wasn't like a Career who had trained their whole lives - while a Career would expect to get a ten that score would almost make my life complete.

The nerves were running high, and everybody knew how important this sponsorship thing was; it could be a ticket between paradise and starvation, though interviews were also rather important. Our escort, Geonova, pompously told us to do our best whilst Helen constantly tried to hold back the tears.

I wanted to comfort her so badly, but I knew that Helen was trustworthy, and that was a bad thing. I had already become attached to Tarren and I could almost feel the future consequences creeping up and threatening to devour me, so I couldn't let myself get attached to Helen too. I would be civil to her, but how could I know her dreams, family and fears before watching them being taken away with the throw of a blade?

Geonova patted me on the back solemnly, and Helen managed to control her sobs. She couldn't allow herself to be presented as a snivelling, pathetic weakling to the other Gamemakers.

"Are you ready?" He asked, opening the doors and leading us out, his graceful footsteps contrasting Helen's more stiff walk as he lead us towards the elevator. Nobody was truly ready for the Hunger Games, but a part of me knew that this was it - no matter how prepared you were you had to be ready, or you'll face the risk of becoming a lifeless corpse.

* * *

**200 in eleven chapters? - thanks! I seriously love reading your reviews, and your praises and criticisms, and next week when exams are over I'll be able to reply to them :)**

**So while I have basic scientific knowledge, or enough to pass a test anyway, I did research to check the validity of the scientific gobbledegook Ava and Tarren spewed out, and even then I'm not 100% sure - please don't correct me, I'm not a scientist.**

**Scores next - how well will your favourite tributes cope? Only time will tell!**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Who do you predict will get the best and the worst scores._

Interview Question: What would you expect your training score to be? This is painfully optimistic of me but I think I'd get around a 5-6.


	13. The Scores

**Blaine Odesius, District 4, 18:**

* * *

After doing nothing but showing my skills off and intimidating the other tributes I knew that this scoring process was my chance to prove myself to everybody. All the Careers knew I was dangerous, I could see it in their gaze, but few of them were truly scared of me - they were much too arrogant for all of that. This was my chance to prove them wrong.

Very few tributes had been gifted with a score of '12' in training (thirty four tributes in history, but that was nothing compared to the thousands of tributes that had been reaped since the Games had started two hundred and three years ago). I knew that I was capable of a perfect score; Games wise I was suited for everything - I was intelligent, strong, and there wasn't a weapon I couldn't control. How could the Gamemakers find criticism for me? It was only fair that I would be the thirty fifth tribute to receive a twelve in training.

Naomi and I walked into the waiting room and immediately walked off to the Careers. Naomi's eyes seemed red and puffy, as if she had been crying, and her hands seemed damp and clammy.

"It's okay," I told her whilst I held on to her moist hands. Naomi was nice and she reminded me of my best friend back home, Coral. My feelings towards Naomi were weak in comparison to the ones I felt for Coral, but there was definitely something I felt towards Naomi nonetheless. She had slowly become my friend and confidante.

But I still thought of Coral all of the time. The last time I had spoken to her was in the Justice Building, when she had told me that she was disappointed in me. Those words ached and lingered like a virus, but that day she told me she loved me - that love, that feeling I felt from the moment I volunteered overpowered the reason why I originally volunteered.

All my life, despite my undeniable skill, athleticism, and male beauty I had been criticised by my father. I never quite knew why he had seen so many flaws in his son, maybe it was the warmth within him died with my beautiful mother or that he wanted the best for me, but he had always chastised me nonetheless. This whole game was one in which I proved my father I was the ultimate child.

I was the best - or so I liked to think. My physical perfection that had ran through my family for years was envied by all and my skill and strength made me the strongest tribute here by far. I knew that, but it didn't ever make me feel content; was life supposed to be about perfection? I knew I was confident, but even my confidence flickered sometimes.

"Remember, an eight in training," Archimedes reminded all of us as we grouped together. Big deal, an eight was a training score that I'd be ashamed of, but a small bit of sympathy was revoked when I saw Naomi stiffen and whimper slightly. I glanced to the other 'stray' Career, Melanthe from District Two, but she seemed rather calm and collected, and I wondered if she had any tricks up for sleeve. Hopefully not.

"Luster Harbetto from District One," a Gamemaker called out. Luster looked at us and gave a weak smile, though I saw the bloodthirsty fiend behind the shy smiles and the shuffling feet. I waited for the door to close before I glanced at Astrid and smiled as charmingly as possible; Astrid wasn't fazed by my good looks, but she was taken in by my charming personality.

"What will he do?" I asked.

Astrid shrugged indifferently. "Marksmanship of some kind, I don't know."

So we had a marksman. Obviously I was talented in that department but it wasn't my expertise, which meant that I had to watch my back just in case the quiet District One boy decided to plummet an arrow into it. Astrid continued to talk to Melanthe about some trite fantasy novel that they both liked, but I zoned out indifferently. It was almost a relief when Astrid had been called into the training room.

"What're you planning to do?" I asked Archimedes.

"Sword skills mainly, but I might show off some survival skills for a little bit of variation," Archimedes told me earnestly. He continued looking around before grinning rather wickedly. "I'm not fond of the decor in this room - it's a bit bland, isn't it?"

The change of conversation was suspicious but I went along with it anyway. "Oh. Yes, but the architecture of this building is such a beauty-"

"Archimedes Plutus," one of the Peacekeepers called out. Archimedes gave me one last sly grin before running his hands through his blonde curls and walking off. I watched him leave before looking over at all of the tributes.

The Three tributes were together, all weaklings as expected. They were also sitting down with the District Six girl, whose tight fists kept on clenching and unclenching as if it were a frantic heart threatening to beat too fast. The Five tributes sat together, though there was a cold austerity that told me that they weren't talking.

The Six boy was all alone twiddling his thumbs nervously, the Seven boy was hunched in the corner with a broody expression whilst his District partner laughed and giggled with the Eleven girl. The Eight boy was sat with the Twelve girl, and her District partner was lecturing the District Ten girl about something.

So many tributes were already conversing and weaving their web of friendship, love and trust. And as a Career I knew for definite that I was going to kill one of those tributes and swipe away their web, which was so weak and frail. Soon all these tributes would be a skeletal figure buried six feet under, and whatever relationships they had developed in their life would only be left to float in the air as a sad, distant memory.

That thought almost made me hate the Games. I didn't totally object to the Games, I found them entertaining, but they would've been a lot more ethical if the tributes had all trained for them and volunteered; that way everybody's death was their own fault. But the Games weren't supposed to be ethical, it was so easy to forget the meaning behind them - they were a punishment, a punishment that had been safely hidden behind a media circus.

Cora had always abhorred the Games. Her grandfather's brother, or some other distant relative, was a volunteer who had died during the one hundredth and sixtieth Games. She knew about the bloodshed it was responsible for and she resented my father and training because of it; rumour has it that she and the girlfriend of last year's District Four tribute had started a rebellion group.

"Melanthe Hathaway!"

I was snapped out of my thoughts as Naomi held on to Melanthe's shoulder, smiling at the girl who had recently become her friend.

"Good luck," she told her.

Melanthe's stony face cracked as she smiled warmly at Naomi, and then the stone repaired, permeating on her face again as she strode towards the training centre almost confidently. I always say Naomi and Melanthe as the 'weaker Careers' because they weren't properly trained, but I knew that if Melanthe were a normal tribute she'd be one who I'd perceive as a minor threat (because let's be realistic - people from the lower Districts were never threats).

"Us next," Naomi said to me nervously after an uncomfortably long pause.

"You'll do fine," I reassured her. "And there's still the District Three tributes to go-"

"Karble Ive!"

The skinny boy from Three gave a convincing smile to his small alliance before scampering into the training room. Though his smile was confidence I had a feeling that he wouldn't be thinking in such a manner when his training score was lower than the tributes from District Twelve. Naomi inhaled sharply, and the nerves that filled up her system left her on tenterhooks. I wanted to comfort her or say something assuring, but I knew that in order to do that I had to sugarcoat my words. I wasn't prepared to do that anytime soon.

"Dannielle Wright!"

The Three girl, Dannielle, looked around at the other tributes. I couldn't help but feel unnerved when her bright eyes set themselves on me; she was very observant. And then in what seemed like a split second she was gone and she was into the training centre.

"Good luck Blaine," Naomi gripped onto my hand and looked into my eyes worriedly. Unlike Naomi I was quite indifferent to the scoring process, I knew I'd do well, but now I was trying to think of a way to enthuse the Gamemakers. There were so many talents I had to show in so little time, as I paced around the Career corner of the room it didn't take me long to decide what to do-

I'd be spontaneous. The Gamemakers just loved something unexpected.

"Blaine Odesius."

I smiled at Naomi, letting her know that I wasn't worried about this silly training business. Naomi smiled back sheepishly, watching me intently as I turned on my heel and walked into the training centre, making sure that my posture was straight and my gait was confident - the Gamemakers needed to know that I was in this for winning, and every impression (especially the first) was vital. What Career walked sluggishly as as if they were a lame fool?

When it was vast and empty the training centre seemed even bigger - when I was the only person surveying the proximity made it seem so wide, as if it could be an arena of its own. The Gamemakers were in front of me, sitting by a large table as they observed me hawkishly. The Head Gamemaker had wild brown hair and a warm smile, whereas his deputy seemed much more cold and stoic. There was a silence that filled the chilly, neglected air. When I observed the room I could spot what the other tributes had done - Luster's arrows and darts pierced targets neatly in the bullseye, Astrid's knives were buried in dummies and Archimedes had hacked away at other things. A light from the ceiling had fallen and smashed, and the walls seemed to be full of tiny holes and dints. The cackling live wires a couple of metres behind me told me that one of the District Three tributes had been busy showing the Gamemakers their technological skills.

All of these tricks seemed impressive, but I had better ideas that would blow the Gamemakers out of their seat.

"You may start," the Head Gamemaker told me cheerfully. I smiled back at him, almost competitively, as if to tell the bright Head Gamemaker in front of me that he was looking at the piece that was destined to dominate his small chestboard - he was looking upon his victor.

The whole act was spontaneous, but I immediately rushed over to the weight station, using the run to show just how fast I was - I knew I wasn't going to be the fastest person in the arena because my body was a lot of weight for my legs to carry, but even so my long, strong legs carried my body forwards quickly enough to show the Gamemakers that they had a speedy predator on their hands.

As I reached the weight lifting station I gripped onto the second heaviest weight I could - though not the heaviest for safety reasons - I had to be cautious. The big clump of metal was hard to carry, and I could feel my limbs stiffening whilst they adjusted under the gigantic mass of the steel, but they eventually adjusted. I let out a breath of relief, stumbling forward awkwardly and then using all the force my arms could muster to hurl the object forwards.

I heard some of the Gamemakers gasp as the weapon pushed itself through the air, crashing into one of the stations (something trivial, such as camouflage) with the force of a small meteor. The table didn't even groan, it immediately cracked and collapsed as the sheer force of the weight snapped it in two as if it were a toothpick. While it collapsed I ran through the dust that had drifted up from the table's grave, and - totally improvising - grabbed a piece of sharp wood, throwing it at a dummy as if it were a spear.

The sharp, pointed leg of the table impaled the dummy's head successfully, though I was certain that that small trick wasn't as impressive as my table stunt. My father (wanting me to be graceful and eloquent in my movement) had paid for my to get dance and gymnastics lessons - it did help when you had one of the District's most powerful businessmen funding your training to make sure you were perfecting in every aspect. Just to show off my grace and versatility I did some kind of mid-air flip, though the landing was shaky and the force made my ankles throb.

I definitely needed more gymnastics lessons.

When I speedily rushed over to the spear section my hand gripped onto a spear, and the smooth wooden shaft felt so familiar and welcoming. I didn't pause, I couldn't show any hesitation, so as soon as I grabbed the spear I lashed it upwards, spinning it in a circle impressively before swinging it at dummies. The noise of the spear slicing through the air sounded like a whip cracking through the silence, though it was all quiet once the spear cut through the dummies as if they were frail plants, amputating and beheading everything close to me.

Once I had shown my spear kills I decided to show more ranged ability, and with one jerk of my hand the spear stopped its destructive outburst and it sailed out of my grip and into a target on the other side of the room. The strike wasn't a neat bullseye, but the Gamemakers all clapped - I had shown I was an exceptional Career, so how did I make myself memorable?

Mixing my agility with my weapon skills I clung on to another weapon, feeling my breath catch in my throat as I flung my body forwards, doing a fancy kind of cartwheel. Whilst I flipped around through the air I leapt up and swiped my spear around in a combative stance. It was very difficult, and though the multi-tasking was just a load of flashy jumps and swipes of a spear I knew it looked good.

I finished my jumping back up into the air, lunging my spear without looking and smirking as I heard it break through the plaster and rest in the thick, brick wall of the training centre. My heart was furiously beating, trying to force oxygen to power my body which was drained of air. I panted and wiped the sweat from my brow before slipping my shirt off.

Most of the girls - minus one or two and the deputy head Gamemaker (who seemed even more unimpressed) - swooned when they saw my well toned body reveal itself. I gave a charming, seductive grin to them just to finalise my high score. The Head Gamemaker looked sternly at some of the silly girls who were whispering and giggling to one another before he straightened up and glanced at me brightly.

"Well done Blaine - you're free to go."

While I confidently moved out of the room I briefly glanced at all the damage I had done, and that alone let me know that I had done an impressive job. Why did I ever doubt myself? The moment my father set his eyes on my training score I know he'd think that not a penny of his money had been wasted, and the public would know that it was I, Blaine Odesius, who was going to win these wretched Games.

* * *

**Elise McElroy, District 9, 13:**

"Aibileen Karpis!"

The District Six girl, who was sat alone after her allies had been called in, tightened her masculine jaw in thought before standing up and walking into the room in which the Gamemakers would be looking at their victims. I grinned slyly, thinking that though the arena was the real killing machine, being truly responsible for twenty-three human lives, I was going to be the Games' biggest killer.

After years of restraining myself and barely killing I knew that the day after tomorrow would be the day in which I get my first kill; I was the pretty thirteen year old from Nine who fluttered an eyelash to the other tributes, they all looked at me as if I were pathetic or as if I needed their sympathy. How wrong they were - once I grabbed a knife I was going to jam it right into somebody's throat.

The only person who knew my true colours was my District partner, Cardinal, the one who lead me out of my sweet little self and transformed me into nature's true survivor - a bloodthirsty killer. Together we killed our Avox last night and it was the best feeling I had ever had the joy of experiencing; the thought of tearing my fingernails through flesh, the blood leaking out before feeling the squishy intestines on my hand make my heart race like it had never done before. I'd feel that many times over once I got into the arena.

"Micah Miraude!"

I snapped out of my fantasy and noticed that the arrogant looking Eight boy (who looked perfect to maul) cast one last cheeky grin to his District partner before following the Peacekeepers. If the Seven tributes had gone that meant that through my overdrawn daydreaming had distracted me. Once the stick thin Eight girl went in to humiliate herself it would be Cardinal and I who would become the Gamemakers' exhibitionists.

"I want to get a big score," Cardinal told me with a sly grin. I tried to talk, but he swept his long dark hair back and looked at me with his misty eyes, so dark I could almost feel the sin swimming in them. "That way the tributes know I'm skilled - and when they see me they run... And when they run the killer instinct kicks in..."

I knew exactly what Cardinal meant. When he had stabbed the Avox girl for the first time last night she tried escaping, but then that last bit of fear that flashed in her eyes as I chased her into the bathroom was the most amazing sensation, even more powerful than adrenaline. But so far I had kept under the radar and every tribute saw me as some weak thirteen year old girl.

Should I use that to my tactical advantage? Was it best to surprise the tributes during the Bloodbath or should let them know that I was a worthy opponent now? The many alternate ways to win this silly game whizzed through my head, every single one having its own pro and con. Cardinal sat down in his chair, holding his hands together and observing them like the bloodthirsty killer he was - I may have liked Cardinal as an assistant but I'd rid of him and leave him as a measly corpse soon enough, and it was going to be brilliant.

"Cardinal Volke!" And just like that Cardinal stood and he was gone. I couldn't help but notice that he was pretty fast - the better to chase his prey away.

As he walked into the training centre I realised that I was going to try to get a high score in training, so that the combination of my adorability and talent would massively increase the flux of sponsors that were already eagerly throwing money in my direction. And that would allow the tributes to know that I was a threat and I'd get to see that glimpse of fear in their eyes as I chased them away...

The thrill was so intense I grinned from ear to ear, making the District Eleven girl who was sitting close to me look quite shaky and nervous, just like my mother before I had finished her. Since I was a baby, seeing all the death and executions always made a dark sense of morbid curiosity lurk within me, and I had enough of my perfect family continuing trying to be flawless. One day the darkness that had been growing inside me decided the time was ripe, and I snapped. I hardly remembered what happened, I just remembered I was having dinner as if it had been any other normal time. My family were talking about the same old boring thing and there was the same old boring food on my pink china plate - and just like that my killer instinct was unleashed. I was quite the mercurial little girl, and it would safe to say that I had two different sides; a split personality, to be fair. The last thing I remembered were the Peacekeepers dragging me away from my mauled parent's bodies as I sobbed, unaware of the crimes I had committed.

And then it made sense - I knew I had murdered my parents, whenever my dark side took over the memory was so present and vivid, but the Peacekeepers had blamed it on a ravenous serial killer that had stalked the streets of District Nine like a ravenous beast. Cardinal had told me he had killed many times before-

Cardinal was the District Nine serial killer.

"Elise McElroy."

The revelation shocked and startled me so much all of the macabre, grisly thoughts that had occupied my mind just left. I was left in the shock of dark enlightenment, and without thinking - as if I were moving on instinct alone - I stood and shuffled into the training centre, feeling every Gamemaker press their keen eyes onto me. Most of them seemed sober, but sole were already bored and beginning to pour some light alcoholic beverages.

I wanted to think of something to do to impress the Gamemakers but I stood there as if I was an intimidated little girl with innocent, protuberant eyes in the headlights. And then the horror came back - I wanted my mummy. I wanted to be in safe, secure arms. I wanted love.

And then there was the horror. I moved to the knife station in an attempt to use my skills to impress the Gamemakers, but looking at the killing devices made me think of the atrocities I had committed; I had only just killed a girl last night and her dried blood still rested underneath my fingernails, her dying eyes as she pleaded haunted my mind in a flurry of regret and sickness. I tried to pick up my knife but I saw the training centre, the knives and weapons that pierced the dummies, the camouflage paint that soaked the floor-

Everyone around me was going to kill or die - and if they didn't do the former the only thing that they could expect to do was the latter. I tried to talk, to cry and breathe but I suddenly felt infected with all of the demented memories of my sickening past - and then it was released as I keeled over and threw up, emptying the contents of my stomach onto the floor as I collapsed.

When I looked at my hands my tear filled eyes saw pallid flesh that was coated in a slick layer of sweat, but I knew what was really on them - blood. Blood of the innocent, and it was only going to get worse. More blood was going to coat these adorable, small hands of mine.

"Her time is up," the Head Gamemaker said, his hazel eyes purposely trying to avoid me out of guilt. He knew what I was thinking too, because just like Cardinal and I that man was a serial killer too. The games he played were responsible for thousands and thousands of lives. Despite knowing that the people in front of me were all criminals, I was a criminal too - a token on their game of fun and gore.

I could barely register what else had happened, but strong arms seized my trembling body and dragged me across the cold floorboards, taking me out of the room. I didn't fight back, for I had been willing to fight a long time ago and it had only turned me into a butcherer of the innocent. Before I knew it I was lying on the couch in the District Nine quarters, being comforted by a weary looking Daymiun.

"Elise?" His voice seemed high and scared, but he helped me get up sympathetically. "I heard about what happened to you in the-"

And then the anger came back quickly. The anger at the Games for reaping me in and trying to kill me - I bet the government did that purposely because they felt that an orphan like me was disposable. I bet the President was going along with it, and I was furious with the Gamemakers, with Daymiun, with Cardinal. They were all the obstacles I had to remove in order to be claimed as a victor! I wasn't going to die in their Games!

"Get off of me," I shoved Daymiun back. Angry at myself for feeling so useless and acting like a shrimp when the Gamemakers tried squeezing my talents out of me; a low score was inevitable, but I realised, with an impish grin, that I could use this to my advantage. Scores were only labels - just because I stood in front of a Gamemaker didn't mean they read my soul.

Cardinal sat next to me, also shoving Daymiun out of the way whilst he held a bowl of sweet popcorn in his hands. For a man who seemed like he wouldn't be messed around by others Daymiun didn't argue with Cardinal and I - he had good reason not to.

"I got a good score," Cardinal said as he stuffed some popcorn in his mouth. "The Gamemakers were impressed, I can sense it."

"What did you do?" I asked, raking my hands into the popcorn while I thought of the funnest way to kill Cardinal.

"You'll find out in time," Cardinal replied vaguely.

On the television was the Hunger Games announcer Leein Malpin, his multicoloured dreadlocks had been dyed so that it looked like wisps of the rainbow were falling from his dark brow, and he had the same old charismatic grin on his overly tanned face, ready to read out the scores to the desperate public. I knew my score was awful, but whatever everyone else scored was a lurking mystery to me.

As he announced the score I noted that the District One girl had gotten an impressive score - a ten, which was fantastic even for a Career. Her District partner dethroned her straight away when it was revealed that he had received an Eleven - that meant that he was dangerous, and dangerous people had to be killed.

The Distict Two girl had gotten an eight, a pretty usual Career score (that made her a threat, though so far she seemed like the weakest in her alliance) and the District Two boy had gotten a nine - which was surprising, considering that he seemed like the leader who called the shots.

The District Three girl had received a six, which listed her as a mediocre tribute whilst her scrawny District partner had been awarded a four, which was pretty impressive seeing as he looked ridiculously weak and fun to kill.

The smiling District Four girl had gotten a seven - not good enough for a Career, but seeing as she wasn't a volunteer it made her appear as one of the more threatening tributes, but soon enough her score paled in comparison to her District partner's double digit score - another eleven. Another massive threat in the arena, but every obstacle was a jumpable one.

The District Five girl only got a four, and I knew that the spectacled little shrimp would probably end up as a bloodbath. Her slightly more built District partner seemed more able, but he himself only scraped a six. That was a meagre score compared to the tributes that everyone was expecting to win.

The little Six boy who wasn't much older than me scored a six, which was shocking seeing as he wasn't much older than me and he didn't look much tougher - that said, I knew I was much better. His District partner scored a seven, which was understandable; after see her immense boxing skills I'd have expected her to score much better, but there was probably a reason the Gamemakers docked some points off.

The Seven boy shocked me with a score of eight - eight? It took me a while to allow that information to sink into my mind. Looked like he was a tough kid and the grisly scar on his face backed that further. His District partner got an alright score, but not a prominent one - just a mediocre five.

The Eight boy scored worryingly high too after being rewarded a seven in training, which meant that he was also a rather big threat - and once again the girl seemed to score lowly after getting a silly little score of three. That made her the worst scoring competitor yet.

Cardinal cheered so loudly bits of popcorn erupted out of his bowl when his score of nine flashed up on the screen whilst Daymiun looked at him in a suspicious manner. Cardinal might have had the highest score of the District children, but he wouldn't be cheering when my knife will jam its way into his little jaw. My pathetic score of one came onto the screen and Cardinal looked at me, worried for the first time in his life-

He knew that I was more than capable of scoring higher than a one, and he had expected me to have taken the training thing seriously. It seemed as if an extemporaneous twist of fate meant that he couldn't compare his score (and killing skill) to mine, meaning that the results to come would be both unexpected and fun to watch-

Though not for the deceased, obviously.

The Ten tributes came on. The girl was another passable Bloodbath with a stupid score of three to prove her worth, and her District partner recieved a seven - a good score overall, but I knew that he wouldn't be my main concern in the arena.

The Eleven's both scored sixes, and the Twelve girl beat the tradition of the girl possessing a worse score than the boy when her seven easily beat her District partner's score of five. But overall none of them were on my worry list - that was saved for the Careers, and just like my parents the Careers were going to build an evil inside me that would prove inescapable.

* * *

**My final exam (mathematics, eurgh) is tomorrow! And then I'm totally free for a couple of months!**

**To those who thought Elise wasn't evil, you're wrong - she's just dramatically schizophrenic, and that makes her all the more worrying. But half of her is definitely evil...**

**Don't be angry if your favourite tribute scored higher or (more probably) lower than predicted! It doesn't determine when they will die! Chances are in the Bloodbath some high, low and mediocre tributes will kick the bucket.**

A score recap for you all:

Luster Harbetto - 11

Astrid Evans - 10

Archimedes Plutus - 9

Melanthe Hathaway - 8

Karble Ive - 4

Dannielle Wright - 6

Blaine Odesius - 11

Naomi Lee - 7

Callis Carlson - 6

Avalynn Hielber - 4

Holden Gray - 6

Aibileen Karpis - 7

Sperren Prazna - 8

Veronica Vesna - 5

Micah Miraude - 7

Tarren Keenan - 3

Cardinal Volke - 9

Elise McElroy - 1

Leonardo Brydon - 7

Helen Aspen - 3

Broson Gray - 6

Petunia Hines - 6

Vigil Harzardys - 5

Reed Ardice - 7

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Were the scores as you expected?_

Interview Question: What would be your weapon of choice if you were in the Games?


	14. The Interviews

**Avalynn Hiebler, District 5, 17:**

* * *

My stylist had forced me into some ridiculous dress that was supposed to make me look innocent and adorable, but I felt anything but innocent. It seemed that - being from the scientific research and genetics District - he felt the need to dress me up into some tight dress that made my knees hug into each other and my breasts seemed more prominent that I had hoped.

"And when you step out into the spotlight I press a button and your outfit changes colour, just as if it is DNA!" My stylist sounded really enthusiastic, but I was exasperated. Scientific geniuses tended to come from District Five, Three and Six, but there were a group of them in the Capitol too. Yet so far I hadn't seen one person with even the most basic scientific knowledge, and since I had my hopes up to meet someone intelligent like an inventor or a Gamemaker I was disappointed.

"You do know DNA is colourless, or - when extracted - a white colour," I picked up the glasses that my stylist advised me not to wear and slipped them on so that they could make me see properly, and it was my way of rebelling and letting my stylist know that I wasn't going to appear as the typical unintelligent welch that was forced into the Games.

This bit of the Games would always be my least favourite bit, I knew that from the moment my name had been announced in the Reapings. I wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing girl in the world, I wouldn't gather many sponsors and the Gamemakers wouldn't score my high intelligence and traps very well, they thought that swinging swords and all that other mindless nonsense would be the more key traits for winning.

But I knew that I was better than all those fools, my parents were scientists who invented many goods. A lot of contraptions that I'd potentially face could even be something that my parents had invented, and because of my broad scientific knowledge of the logic in and out of the Games I was pretty sure that I would win, all I had to do was be careful.

My chariot costume was atrocious, even I knew that. My score wasn't much better, but this was my chance to show the artificial Capitol citizens that they were standing before their victor. Callis and I were lead out into a small line with the other tributes, and I could tell by the dim lighting and the woman holding a clipboard in her hand that we were backstage, reminding us all that the system was going to be changed and that we'd be going out in boy, girl order. Soon we would be in the centre of the limelight showing the Capitol citizens what we were worth. Behind me was Callis and in front of me was the arrogant District Four boy, dressed in a suit that made sure to compliment his rippling muscles.

I thought of my parent's inventions for a second - I knew how to manipulate nature to my will just as they did, and when I set traps like that upon the Four boy there'd be nothing that he could do to escape it. Killing wouldn't be a problem for me, though the thought of it didn't send chills of pleasure up my spine I knew that I was capable of it. It was like an unpleasant chore that had to be done.

My parents would understand, they knew the brutality of the Games and they knew that I had such immense knowledge even I was capable of winning. My lips (which had been coated red and blue by my stylist to compliment my flashing suit) slipped into a smile, and then a frown. I didn't care much for people, but I missed my parents already; they were considerate, sensible and logical. We were the only people in the world who thought correctly.

"What - Her?" An affronted voice shouted angrily. "I am Jynx Blackthorne, I cannot be sacked! Especially when I'm replaced with Nadia Skettings!"

"We're sorry, Nadia is more suitable for the job," a small woman holding some files trembled as Jynx's amethyst eyes stabbed into her. The girl flinched once again, whimpering while Jynx swiped her arm and made her papers fly around the backstage areas, raining down upon all the tributes. There was a scream and everybody immediately moved around, crying out in fear and unease. The idiot Career in front of me was guffawing as Jynx sabotaged more backstage equipment.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" A commanding voice made everybody freeze in their spots. Callis looked red faced and silly while he glanced at Nadia Skettings, a Capitol blogger and journalist who bitched about any celebrity she could. She was tall, with fake eyes that were as yellow as sunshine and pink hair that clashed with her features.

"If you step onto that stage I will kill you," Jynx told Nadia with gritted teeth. Nadia only grinned and stepped forward, wielding her microphone as if it were a powerful weapon.

"You're a mentor - you can't interview," Nadia's voice was so blunt and factual, she always acted like the logical one whenever she nattered on about trivial nonsense on her blog, and I had a feeling that her blunt attitude would affect her interviewing style. Jynx tried talking, but for the first time she stormed off being tearful and defeated.

That interview position must have meant a lot to her.

"Hello!" Nadia stepped onto the stage, beaming brightly as she talked to the audience. "It's your new host and interviewer, Nadia Skettings, and I am here to give you a little more insight into our beloved tributes. Will you love them, will you hate them? Only time will tell!"

Everybody was silent as the highlights of the chariot rides, reapings, training scores and a segment of commentary from the Gamemakers flashed on screen. There were no positive or negative comments about me, which meant that I was successfully under the radar, and Callis had very mixed reviews from the Gamemakers. Every bad comment made his fists tighten in anger, and anger was always a fun weakness to toy with.

And then the interviews started! Oh, even I found the indoor firework display a marvel that science had bestowed us with. I couldn't wait to just leave this place and go home to my parents and my rat, Eunice, the only people in the world that I appreciated. And then I'd use my victor position to get me somewhere as an inventor, a scientist - maybe even a Gamemaker!

The One boy, Luster, seemed like a sadistic boy who contemplated every answer to Nadia's questions, though his sparkly tuxedo outfit made him look flamboyant and carefree. After a 'hilarious' conversation about savoury food it seemed Luster wasn't as sociopathic as he made out. His District partner was wearing a silk dress laced with beautiful rubies, and she captured the audience a lot more - she was charismatic, ambitious and enthusiastic with a lot of sarcasm to throw the interviewer back and make the audience laugh.

The District Two boy moved onto the stage, sitting down on a plush chair as he wore a simplistic grey suit. Even I had to admit that this boy sounded clever and even sly, and I couldn't help but feel that every conversation he had was one in which he aimed to confuse and outwit the other person. Melanthe, the Two girl, looked pretty in a silver dress and the first part of her interview was calm (maybe because the relief of Jynx not being interviewer soothed her), she said something contrived about being pleased with her high score. I had to smirk when her mother was mentioned though, because Melanthe suddenly became uncooperative and moody.

This was why I loved the interviews, it always gave me a small glimpse into a tributes' mental weakness. The bony, underfed tributes would die straight away but the stronger ones would remain after the bloodbath and I knew that their only flaw was their mentality, and I was going to pick that away until every tribute died one by one.

Although the District Three score seemed perfect on the outside - he portrayed himself as one of the Capitol, always complimenting the powerful interviewer in front of him while his bow tie lit up and spun around like an electrical fan. Although the Capitol had momentarily forgotten about Karble's training score I remembered that he was weak and he'd probably be extinguished the moment the gong rang, despite his hammy sob stories and trite speeches. The Three girl actually looked pretty when she came on with her dress that sparkled blue and silver, and though she seemed cunning and intelligent her interview didn't catch my eye.

The boy in front of me, Blaine, snorted arrogantly before striding onto the stage as if he were designed for it. The audience were already in love with him because he was attractive and his score was high, but I could easily see that he was an arrogant fool who would lose eventually. The girl was completely the opposite, and after finding out that the Careers had rejected her because of her training score it was easy to see that she was holding back tears.

Naomi might have had a high training score for a girl who hadn't received training, but I couldn't help but feel that she was nothing more than a pretty faced baby that cried when something never went her way. Despite the tears tormenting her blue eyes Naomi managed to appear strong, bubbly and even cheeky. If she got past her lack of self confidence she could've even been a threat-

"Callis Carlson!"

Callis pushed past me, and I could tell that the stylists had successfully managed to make us a nice interview costume (which was a miracle, seeing as the chariot ones were disastrous) as his shirt was illuminated like a lava lamp, and the fluorescent colours changed from a blue to a red slowly but fascinatingly. Despite the scientific inaccuracies I was quite astounded by the science in the costume, though Callis' defensiveness did ruin his fantastic image a little bit - as well as his interview.

"Avalynn Hiebler."

I took in a deep breath as the audience cheered, stepping onto the stage with a cold smile on my face whilst my dull dress suddenly cave alive with a series of blue and red flashes, emitting small beams of colour than bounced into the audience and entranced them all. When I sat on my seat I smiled at the pink haired Nadia, knowing that though my outfit wasn't as hypnotic and entrancing as Callis' it was certainly more flashy.

The Capitol loved flashiness.

"Avalynn, our District Five girl," Nadia smiled and shook my hand before jumping straight to the point as she usually did. "How does it feel filling in the boots of last year's victor?"

"I certainly wouldn't be suicidal," I replied nonchalantly. Some audience members gasped at the joke, though others found my dark humour endearing. Nadia may have been to the point but I knew that she was more sweet than Jynx, so I could actually remain civil with her and show off my true intelligence.

"Of course," Nadia giggled. "So you got a four in training. How do you feel about that? Have you been disheartened?"

"No," I looked into the audience solemnly, but there were so many coloured faces and wigs it was hard to not feel attacked by colour and artificial cheer. The Capitol weren't innocent at all, they were all ready to see me and others die, but the controversy only added to their glamour and glitz. "The Gamemakers only judge tributes on the muscles that lie underneath their flesh. I'm intelligent, and because of that science is my weapon."

"So you're one of our brainy underdogs?" Nadia's smile was wide, as if she just wanted to devour me. She pouted at the audience, giggling falsely again before continuing. "How clever are you?"

"Clever enough. My parents are scientists."

"Do you miss them?"

I paused, thinking about the answer of the question. I hated myself for revealing my true weakness, but I hated lying and I wanted my parents at home to see me and though I thought about them often. "Yes. I miss them a lot."

"But surely you've been distracted by the Capitol?" Nadia stood up and twirled around, making it appear as if she were pointing at the lights though I knew she just wanted people to see how frilly and graceful her dress was. "Do you have a favourite food or drink?"

"I just like water," I shrugged. "It's all my biological being needs to function and survive."

Nadia looked at the audience darkly. "Our tributes should bear that in mind - what is your tactic in the Games?"

"Stay alive," I laughed, as if the whole plan was obvious. The audience watched me silently, but not because I was bland - I had made an impression! Maybe I'd gather enough sponsors to make powerful traps!

"Okay - time is running out Ava," Nadia said when she peered at her watch. "Give our Capitol audience some fun facts!"

"The sky is blue because-"

"About yourself," Nadia interjected swiftly, as if she had been expecting such an answer.

"Err..." I paused, not liking to mention such trivial matters. I wasn't the kind of person who had preferences, because my one favourite thing was my science and the mechanics behind the Hunger Games. "I like silver or grey as a colour. I have a pet rat called Eunice. My favourite number is Pi and my favourite star constellation is Apus because you can only find it if you're determined to seek it out."

"And that's your philosophy - you only get things if you seek them out?"

"Definitely."

The buzzer rang and the audience clapped, all looking at me with wide eyes as if they still couldn't figure me out. I supposed I was an alien creature to them because I actually had intelligence and I wasn't absorbed into a world of vanity and shallowness. When I got to the other side of the stage I realised that tomorrow the Games would begin - some tributes walking on the stage now would be dead! My dress stopped flashing numerous colours and I turned around to see the young Six boy on the stage - after all the competition wasn't truly gone until they had died out.

But for that brief moment I knew that every organism was capable of dying, and what if I died? Would my parents change, or would they continue inventing as usual, still remaining as robotic as they currently seemed? Around the room so many tributes had partnered up, and the District Four boy was trying hard to reassure the sobbing District Four girl. I couldn't help but feel he was a fool, but was I a fool for not managing to connect with a fellow human being?

This was the Hunger Games, I had to remind myself that. The tributes were all the same - they were obstacles that had to be removed for my victory, and I wasn't going to let their humanity and emotions make killing any more difficult. I was going to remain just ad detached as usual, because I knew that that was key to survival. Emotional attachments were always much too dangerous.

* * *

**Micah Miraude, District 8, 17:**

"I don't do well with crowds," Tarren whispered to me, trying to peer behind me to look for somebody. I patted her shoulder comfortingly, but there wasn't anything I could do. I wasn't good with all the icky comforting stuff. Tarren took in a calming breath before trying to peer behind me once again.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Trying to find my ally," Tarren scowled, as if she found the word hard to say. I refused to budge, so Tarren clung on to my patterned waistcoat whilst trying to peer at the District Ten tributes.

"I'm obviously not your source of comfort then."

"You're not doing a very good job!" Tarren said honestly. Owch.

Although Tarren was as squirmy as ever when faced with the prospect of lights and a big audience I was much more in my comfort zone. The ladies loved me and there was nothing better than saying hi to your fans, and that Nadia was a nice looking girl - that helped. The District Six boy was on stage now, and I knew a suck up when I saw one. Strangely enough the kid avoided talking about his strategy, so I assumed that he had something explosive up his sleeve.

I thought explosions were cool, and fires, chases, stealing or whatever else could give me a rush of adrenaline. I had enough common sense to know when I was in danger, but danger was always fun - which was the reason I kind of looked forward to the Hunger Games. Inevitable doom wasn't really the kind of thing I wanted to face, but if I had a fun time before that what was the point of crying and begging for my mother to rescue me and take me home?

That said, I missed her. I missed my dad. I missed everybody - I didn't see them very often because of their tight-knit work schedules, and I guessed I was raised to be naturally independent - you had to be if you came from an urban, poverty stricken zone. But I kept glancing at the small clay cat in my palm and thinking back to my mother, the things she had sacrificed to make sure that I was okay. I couldn't let her down like that. Maybe if I came home filled with the riches victors were awarded with I could repay my whole family for everything, so none of us had to go hungry or be cramped on a single couch for sleep. With twenty four other tributes I didn't fancy my chances much, but I was raised in a tough area. I knew how to fight, and that always helped.

The Six girl was on stage now, having a translator so that Abe's sign language made sense to Nadia. Abe tried explaining her life and her family, but it took a long time to translate every word for Nadia to understand - by the time Abe was done she'd barely said enough to get any sponsors, but that was a good thing because I could charm some lonely sponsors onto my own side.

"And Sperren Prazna from District Seven!"

I zoned out of Sperren's interview; he was very stony and unresponsive, always talking with a glare and being tentative before he even answered. By the time I had turned around I was looking down at small Reed, who was looking up to me while a chaste black dress that clung to her skin and spread from her hips.

"I just wanted to say good luck," she said, glancing around at the crowd behind us and scowling. Her expression warmthened when her bright eyes set themselves on me. "Try not to be too much of a jerk."

"They'll love me," I joked.

"I don't mean to sound rude but why are you here?" Tarren looked at the Twelve girl who had disrupted the flow of the line - if there was one thing I had learnt about Tarren it was that everything had to be prim and organised, otherwise she only got even more nervous.

Reed looked up at Tarren, hesitantly thinking of an answer. Her blue eyes hardened for a second before she cast a glance at her District partner Vigil, who was standing at the back of the line. A rare smile curved her lips upward before she looked at Tarren more confidently.

"I'm his ally."

And with that she walked away, a new spring in her step adding to her confidence. Usually things didn't get to me, but Tarren looked at me in a patronising manner that made the back of my neck feel unusually hot. I fumbled with my shirt for a second, trying to ignore Tarren's unsubtle look while the District Seven girl rattled on about Capitol fashion to Nadia in her overenthusiastic voice. I turned around after almost feeling Tarren's eyes cut into me.

"What?" I snapped.

"You never told me you had an ally."

"Oh," I huffed. "You never told me you had one too."

"She's pretty," Tarren said with a fake absent mindedness. I tried to bite back a remark, but Tarren continued making uncharacteristic hints. "She got a good score-"

"Shut up," I hissed, turning around and pretending to look at the soft faced District Ten boy who was busy reassuring his shaky, shy District partner. Once my gaze flickered over to him I smirked. "Oh he got an alright score too, didn't he? Hmm... Yep, I like him, he's cute - nice eyes, clear skin..." I raised my voice so that everybody could hear me. "You know what Tarren if I played on a different team, or if I were you, I'd definitely-"

"Shut up," Tarren whispered defensively, clinging onto my hands with more strength than I imagined the small, shy girl to have. I still pulled away, having more power than her nonetheless before smirking cheekily.

"If you want to be extreme I can show you just how extreme I can be."

And then the buzzer rang, calling me to my interview. I looked around at the remaining tributes before flashing a confident smile and strutting out onto the stage, smiling whilst Capitolian girls screamed - I wasn't a muscular pretty boy like the one from District Four, but girls always loved a rebel, hence my rather high success rate. Although it seemed as if the whole audience were wild by default when a tribute was called up - why? Were they secretly cheering me for my death?

Suddenly the bright lights and enthusiastic cheers didn't seem so appealing, despite the fact I had a macabre sense of humour. I didn't allow my confident façade fade though, so I raised my arms and cheered to let my audience know I acknowledged them. They screamed as if they loved me, but that was an expected response - the Capitol didn't truly love any of their tributes unless they became victors.

"Micah!" Nadia greeted me, flicking her cotton candy pink hair back. "I can see you're confident, and we all love a tribute who knows what they're capable of! The Gamemakers gave you an alright score, but how do you fancy your chances?"

"I think I've got a pretty good chance, darling," I laughed - it was a unwritten truth that girls liked being called darling because it made then feel unique and special. My charm had already permeated Nadia's heart, as she giggled like a shy schoolgirl, trying to hide her blush with her thick microphone.

"If you did win what would you spend your money on?"

"A house, some nicer clothes to party in or something," I said, deciding to keep a bad boy image that my escort Robinetro had said the Capitol slapped on my head. It would've been more effective if I had a cigarette or something, but I improvised anyway. "Maybe a dog, that'd be cool."

"Oh we'd all love you to be a victor," Nadia smiled and turned to the audience. "Do we think Micah's capable?"

The whole audience cheered in the affirmative as they usually did, though there was the occasional individual who decided to make the atmosphere sour by booing, but I kept an unfazed expression. Tributes that cried were always labelled as Bloodbaths and their sponsors were flushed away as soon as the tears began leaking. Nadia turned to me again, with a more serious expression.

"Do you have a family back home?" She asked. "Tell us - who knows the real Micah Miraude, who at home misses you?"

"My mother, I hope, though she's been threatening to stab me for years whenever I forget to clean," the audience chuckled at my dark joke. I didn't like thinking of my family, they almost took away the fun of the situation because it reminded me that this ordeal wasn't really fun and games. "I have my dad, he'll miss me I guess - oh and Lucca, my sister. She's a pain in the arse but she's one of those protective older sisters you can't help but love. I know she'll miss me... I miss her too."

"How poor are you as a family?" Nadia defended herself as the audience gasped at the controversial question; the Capitol liked to ignore the poverty that spread through the Districts so that they felt more moral than they actually were - ignorance was bliss. "I mean come on! I just want to get a glimpse on how Micah got so tough!"

"Really," I felt the irritation build up inside me, and I had to stop myself from punching Nadia's quizzical face. I didn't like sounding desperate or seeking attention, and the way interviewers from the Capitol acted it seemed to me as if they were mocking poverty, because starvation was just hilarious. "Don't go there."

Nadia rolled her eyes, pissed off at my lack of an answer but she pushed on anyway. "Do you like District Eight? What about the textiles produced, what do you think of that?"

"I'm not a fashionista," I shrugged. "Even if I was we don't have enough to afford the good stuff like the stuff you Capitolites get. As far as Districts go Eight isn't a bad place to live - it sounds better than Twelve or Eleven."

"Well that leather jacket you wore made quite the impression at the reaping," Nadia told me. I almost wanted to jump up and laugh at Tarren for mocking it numerous times, but that wouldn't make me look cool and I'd only appear immature - which I was, but the Capitol really couldn't see that. "Some people would say that you're our little tribute style icon."

"Too bad I couldn't take the jacket to the arena," I smirked.

Nadia laughed wickedly. "I'm sure if you make it past the Bloodbath somebody would be generous enough to sponsor you one."

The buzzer rang off, rebounding around the whole room while a chill shot up my spine. I waved at the adoring audience once again before standing and walking to the other side of the stage, where the District Seven girl was talking to the irritated District Six girl about how boxing wasn't in fashion at all. I looked behind me where Tarren was stumbling over her words nervously, and I flashed her a reassuring smile that she caught. I leant back on the nearest wall sighing, though I liked tantalising Tarren I did like the kid. She didn't deserve any of the ill luck she had recieved.

"Hey, kid," I peered up to see the District One girl facing me, her eyes sparkling with an indescribable malice. She had already gotten a sharp looking weapon hidden under her dress, though it was hidden under the silky scarlet garments.

"I'm aware that I'm practically the same age as you," I said factually. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Wanna be allies?" She smirked.

"Why are you asking me?" I glanced out into the audience, where Cardinal Volke from District Nine was having a creepy rant about the uselessness of humanity, and small goosebumps crept across my flesh as the One girl stepped ever so slightly closer to me, so that her face was inches away from mine.

"Naomi isn't in our alliance, she got a seven," she explained. "I'm not the leader, but even Archimedes - our leader - told us that a sixth ally would be beneficial, so I took it in my hands to look for another ally, a stronger District kid." Her mascara coated eyelashed fluttered suggestively. "The boring Seven boy rejected us, I want to kill the Nine boy because he seems too threatening for my taste... But you..."

The buzzer forced her sentence into a dead end, and while the psychotic Nine boy stormed away from the stage, grinning at the other tributes malevolently, the little Nine girl skipped onto the stage with her fur dress twirling with her. The One girl looked at the Nine girl giggle innocently with a nauseated expression before turning back to me, her face still screwed with disgust.

"Do you want to be in the alliance or not?"

"You should take Naomi back," I told her modestly. "My score is on par with hers so there's no point recruiting me, really." I was grasping at straws now, I didn't like this girl being so physically close to me and I didn't want to join the Career alliance anyway, despite the tactical benefits, though I did feel I made a good point.

"We'll forget that small detail," the girl ran her finger down my shirt so roughly the talon like fake nails threatened to rip the buttons off and tear through the material. "I want you in the alliance. Be logical Micah, with the Careers you'll have a free ticket to the final eight, how is that a disadvantage?"

With a buzz the Nine girl skipped off stage giggling as the audience sobbed, and I knew from her malicious giggle that whatever act she gave to the audience was false. As the kind looking Ten boy - Tarren's ally - moved onto the stage I looked back at an expectant Career girl.

"No," I declined. "I don't want to be part of the Careers."

The girl's hands that had been resting on my shirt suddenly clung onto the cotton material in a vice like grip, and the girl's blue eyes had a nasty fire burning inside them as she shoved me into the wall and spoke to me threateningly. "Let me rephrase that, join our alliance or I'll hunt you down and kill you myself. And trust me when I promise that it would be more pain than you could ever imagine."

I wondered why the ambitious Career girl wanted me in the alliance so much if she was prepared to blackmail me. I was a bit worried, and I could feel the blood pumping through my body in fright, but I mustered the strength I needed to shove the shocked girl away. She flicked her auburn hair back in an affronted manner while I glared at her. Whatever she wanted to do with me I wasn't going to give her a tactical advantage.

"No," I said more strongly, walking past the One girl who was now my enemy - she said she'd hunt me down in the Bloodbath and I had a feeling she'd stick to her promise.

The rest of the interviews blurred by as I watched them from the sidelines - I didn't get to catch any of the Ten boy's interview, but the poor District Ten girl was a shaking wreck as she trembled underneath the might of Nadia Skettings, who wasn't nasty but hardly reassuring either. The Eleven boy seemed mediocre, a bit cocky but not that bad either. The Eleven girl made me laugh a few times, but I didn't perceive her as a threat. The Twelve boy appeared mysterious and then Reed came on-

And she actually managed to smile, and appear charming instead of looking glum and making nasty comments to the interviewer. When her buzzer finished she gave a contrived smile to the audience before walking back to the sidelines, immediately heading my direction.

I was sure for now that Reed and I had gathered a few sponsors. Now all we had to do was survive the bloodbath... But that would be a challenge when the spoilt District One girl nurtured a little vendetta on you.

* * *

**Now that I'm free expect replies whenever you review ;)**

**Wow interviews over! I usually find interviews tedious but I actually enjoyed writing this chapter :)**

**Well almost all of our tributes have been formally introduced. After the next chapter you'll hear all of their voices, and then you will be able to vote your favourites in a poll.**

**But that won't be the bloodbath yet, because we need to hear from the mentors and our head Gamemaker, Tobias, before all this tension is released, and gah - I'm actually very excited.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Who do you think has the biggest sponsor fanbase in the Games? Who would you sponsor?_

Interview Question: What interview angle would you go for in an interview?


	15. The Feast

**Veronica Vesna, District 7, 17:**

* * *

I sat in the stylist chair, glancing at my muddy blue eyes in the simple mirror before the delayed questions swirled through my head. The interviews had ended, right? So why was I suddenly getting restyled? My fiery hair that had been washed and straightened, before being pinned together elaborately. My stylist smiled warmly before her warm eyes met mine in the mirror.

"Is something wrong Violet?" She asked whilst my prep team were rushing around behind her, preparing to find a suitable dress. I paused as I tried to think of the right words...

"Why am I here?"

"Because the Gamemakers want your last meal televised with them," my stylist told me. "That way if you act the way a sponsor wants you to you'll get more sponsors, and nothing is more tragic than seeing some tributes potentially eat their last full meal."

I tried to suppress a groan. I didn't want any more pre-Games events! My chariot ride went okay, thanks to some fashion alterations I made, my training score was better than I had expected and since Nadia was a fashion icon and guru I had no problem talking to her. Throughout the Pre-Games I had been fortunate, and now it seemed as if the Gamemakers wanted to give me an extra chance to mess up.

Although it was nice that a grand feast was probably being cooked up for my last meal. I had almost resigned to my fate yesterday when the Career's high scores prominently danced around on the screen - why was I tricking myself into thinking that I was going to survive the bloodbath alone? I winced as my stylist used her comb to tug back a clump of my red hair, and I tried to reassure myself that if I fought - if I fought hard enough - I could survive. School didn't teach me much, but my parents had always told me that despite their wealth luxuries weren't handed out on a golden platter.

Soon I looked in the mirror and opened my mouth in surprise - I always loved my beautiful, flame like hair, but the stylists had made it look frizzy yet elegant after pinning it up into an elegant hairdo that I just couldn't help but admire. I grinned at my stylist.

"Oh... My... God!" I giggled, just sighing at the thought of fashion. Fashion was my life and soul, it felt like my purpose. Every thought in my brain was related to fashion, so naturally this new outfit and hairdo totally excited me. "You so need to teach me how to do that hairdo."

"Like autumn leaves... Oh Violet," my stylist sighed, and I didn't understand why she looked a bit miserable. "You just need to know everything about fashion, don't you? You need to focus on surviving first."

I gave her another quizzical look, but all thoughts had suddenly flooded out of my mind when my stylist stood me up and my prep team came in holding my feast dress. It was totally the best thing I had ever seen in my life! Every thread was done in such a specific manner so that the chestnut brown bodice of the dress resembled the light bark of wood, and then the dress stretched out to the hem so that it looked as if it had been woven out of crisp leaves.

I squeaked with excitement as my prep team slid me into the beautiful ball gown, and when I looked at myself in the mirror I felt more powerful than ever - I wasn't some scared girl from District Seven anymore, nor was I a Career, but I was now an elegant Queen with the keys to the kingdom. As I was lead to the dining room that had been set up for the evening I felt more powerful than ever, with the wavy leaves of my dress rippling at the slightest movement.

The tributes all waited in lines, walking through the door and shaking hands with the Head Gamemaker - Tobias Brain or something, and it almost made me wonder if any of the tributes felt like punching the man who was literally lining them up and fattening them for the slaughter. I sighed, trying not to run my hands through my elaborately styled hair in nervousness - messing it up wouldn't be a good idea.

Sperren was behind me, and with half of a masquerade piece covering his scar he actually looked dashing with a cravat sown out of leaves which were a plethora of colours, sunset orange, foxy brown, spring green...

I had to stop my body shaking as the excitement pulsed through my whole body. I was a bit disappointed when the best part of the Games, the chariot rides, had passed but this was just... Oh my gosh, it was totally the best thing ever!

"You're Violet, I presume," I looked up to the Head Gamemaker, whose usually messy hair had been straightened so that it fell as a dark veil, almost obscuring his dark eyes. The robed man grabbed my hand and shook it warmly, much too warmly for any other murderer to do. "You look fantastic. I hope the feast tonight meets your expectations."

I tried to force myself not to stutter, but I only blushed. "Thanks."

An angry looking Sperren stepped forward, having his hand shook by Tobias whilst I ambled into the dining room with wide eyes. There was a large dining table made out of a beautiful rosewood that ran down the whole room, which had regal red walls and a scarlet carpet to match. In front of the dining table was another dining table running across vertically, where the golden robed Gamemakers sat and socialised. The room was so grand - a spirally staircase made of marble snaked around the back of the dining hall, accompanied with a platinum balcony.

I thought the room couldn't be anymore decorated, a large chandelier was suspended from a large domed ceiling which had been painted an azure colour. I couldn't stop gawping, it was as if my legs had been set on autopilot, moving me forward to sit at the most random place I could. On the seat next to me sat a glum looking District Five boy.

"Don't be sad! Isn't this fun?" I smiled at him enthusiastically, though his sad eyes looked down at the dining table.

"It would be nice if I wasn't going to die tomorrow..."

"You don't know that for sure!" I nudged him enthusiastically, making sure not to touch his skin. I had heard a rumour that the nerdy District Five citizens all had a disease on their skin from all their experiments, and that it was contagious - I wasn't ready to clarify that rumour from personal experience.

"I don't know if I'll live for sure either."

I sighed apprehensively, looking away from the District Five boy and ignoring his miserable presense completely. Any pretences of being nice were dropped, as I didn't want to spend the last of my days with upset children who were accepting their death. Petunia sat next to me, greeting me enthusiastically. I was about to remark that her dress was such a copycat of mine, with fine straw lines of grain being wound around each other into a dress that fell to her knees in a similar fashion - but before I opened my mouth I remembered that her stylists had mimiced mine, so there was no point criticising Petunia.

"Oh my god how cool is this?" I giggled as the last of the tributes took their place.

"Kinda feels like the last supper," Petunia remarked. "All we need is bread and wine. Wine would be nice actually, I've always wanted to get drunk! If these are going to be the last of my days I might as well tick it off the bucket list!"

As Petunia swiped back her straight ebony hair I giggled warmly. I had always felt the need to pretty myself, so that the boys found me more attractive and the girls wanted to hang out with me - looking good was now something that was hardwired into my brain naturally, but I didn't have to be fake around Petunia. She was friendly, funny and nonjudgemental - a true friend. I had only learnt what a true friend was when my 'best friend' Percy Lion didn't visit me in the justice building. Unlike Petunia all Percy cared about were boys, money and reputation.

"I hope the food is nice," I said, looking to the differing knives and forks on my plate.

"This is the Capitol Violet!" Petunia beamed. "Of course the food would be nice!"

There was silence as the Deputy Head Gamemaker tapped her spoon against the crystallised wine glass in front of her, allowing a tinkling sound to ring through the hall and silence everyone. The Head Gamemaker who was at the doorway of the entrance hall was now standing on the balcony, observing those below him. He spoke out in a booming voice that captured the hall.

"Tributes, Gamemakers, Panem," he then moved, journeying down the stairway with his arm gripping onto the railing of the balcony. I couldn't help but feel that this whole thing was staged; Tobias' voice, movement, expression and even poise seemed too fake and perfect. "The Hunger Games begin tomorrow. Twenty three of you will be dead in a matter of weeks whilst one victor remains, and this is the Capitol's treat, thanking you for your participation, and wishing you the very best of luck."

Ironically his speech ended just as he reached the chair he was situated him. The golden seat had plush red cushions that seemed comfortable and squashy, and as soon as he sat down a fleet of Avoxes spread throughout the room, laying down the started meals for the guests to enjoy. Yet I was captivated by the Gamemakers, sitting there in their fine robes in such an noble manner. Today I had felt like regality, but as usual the Gamemakers were one step higher than the measly tributes - we were the bourgeois to their aristocracy.

"What's that?" I asked Petunia, looking down at a salad with cheese sprinkled across it. Petunia glanced at her meal meekly, before squinting at a lilac laminated menu the District Three girl was holding not far from her.

"A warm goat's cheese salad with apple vinaigrette," she read tentatively.

I pauses. "What's that?"

"Posh garbage," Petunia shrugged, taking a mouthful of bland looking celery which was peppered with cheese. After chewing it she swallowed, with a neutral expression on her face. "It just tastes like salad... Cheese is nice, though."

I never really liked fancy food - coming from a middle class family my family had always loved over-stylised dishes like this, but I didn't. My family had kind of raised me to be so superficial, if something sounded nice on paper then it was surely nice - right? I paused before nudging my plate aside. A greedy Petunia, who had demolished her small helping of salad, grabbed mine and pulled it towards her.

The moment I was reaped I cried so much I probably ruined my supply of mascara, but that had gradually faded into a hostile sort of acceptance. Home was far away, and there was a massive chance it would never come back - the only reminder I had left was a part of velvety dress that my friend Isabella had ripped off. Whilst Percy seemed like my best friend Isabella was my real best friend, though that epiphany hadn't come to me until the moment Percy had left me in the justice building. The clump of velvet in my hands reminded me of everything I had to fight for: fashion, friendship, family and my dreams.

"Is that a piece of dress?" Petunia asked, jabbing a piece of tomato with her fork.

"It's..." I paused. "It's my token. It reminds me of home. What did you bring?"

"Me? It's a black bottle necklace..." She paused before speaking the last words out. "It has a piece of Petunia in it."

"A piece of you?" I asked confusedly. "Ew! Like a fingernail or something?"

Petunia chuckled, though she seemed strangely melancholy. "No. Petunia is also a plant."

"Oh my gosh!" I giggled as an Avox handed me a glass of wine. I set it on the table and clapped my hands together. "Like Violet! How so totally incident-"

I threw my hands out in excitement, knocking into the District Four girl as she moved down the large dining hall. The force was enough to startle her, sending her stumbling before she fell down and hit the red floor, gasping with surprise as she dropped a goblet. Splashes of water swept across my beautiful dress, ruining it.

"What the!" I cried out, angry that my dress had been soaked. "What the hell are y-"

Petunia gasped when she realised that I had shouted at a girl from a Career district, and even I felt my nerves begin to pump when the Four girl forced herself on her feet, her blue eyes looking into mine and full of tears.

"I'm sorr-"

"I don't want to hear it," I told her. The girl already seemed fragile and easy to break, but this time she wiped her eyes with the back of her silken blue sleeves in an attempt to stop herself crying.

"Well I do," a harsher voice made me flinch as the Two girl stepped past me, linking her arms with the weaker Four girl's arms. They continued walking, the girl sniffling whilst they talked. I didn't know what Melanthe had said, but her comforting words didn't seem to comfort Naomi in the slightest. I knew that I had to be selfish to survive but for that one second I realised that all of this was wrong, but was it better to do the right thing or survive?

As much as I hated to admit it, I'd rather survive.

"You're lucky the Four girl isn't in the Careers anymore," Petunia said nervously, she paused to take an experimental sip of wine before continuing. "I mean... You might get on the District Two girl's bad side but that's something else, really, she isn't one of the scarier Careers..."

I looked at everybody who had gotten the highest scores. The District One girl had already had a bit too much champagne and she was standing on the other end of the table, dancing and singing like an idiot whilst the Gamemakers eyed her nervously. The One boy - who had scored joint highest - was quietly chewing on some celery, his blue eyes full of what could only be described as malice. The Two boy was also quiet, though he was conversing with one of the female Gamemakers. The big, burly boy from Four was casually signing a piece of table cloth for another fan.

And then there was another tribute who worried me - the Nine boy sat in the corner, his yellowing fingernails tearing into bits of lettuce that he wasn't interested in. He was laughing and talking to the girl from District Nine who had gotten a lower score, meaning that the two had formed an unlikely alliance.

"You're quiet," Petunia told me as an Avox handed her the main meal. I didn't even glance at it, but the warm, welcoming scent of the food did seem to ignite my senses and make my stomach growl. "Oh wow Violet! This looks delicious... I'd seriously kill for food like this!"

As morbid as it was I knew that Petunia and I would be killing for food this in a couple of days -

If we didn't starve to death first.

* * *

**Holden Gray, District 6, 14:**

"What exactly is this?" I asked an Avox next to me as she handed me. The purple haired girl pointed at my plate, which smelt of garlic and had what looked like chopped sausage swimming in sauce and other strange things. When I realised she couldn't answer I turned to Abe, but she couldn't tell me either.

"It is sausage casserole with garlic toast," Danni said next to Abe, grabbing a piece of the bread and frowning slightly. "While it looks fancy I'm not sure if this is my thing... I've never really been fond of garlic..."

Despite Danni's hesitance I couldn't help but immediately devour mine. In District Six there were often food shortages, so you were kind of taught to eat whatever food you had - you never knew when it would be your last. I paused whilst I sipped on a small bit of stew, realising that the Bloodbath was happening tomorrow morning. For all I knew tomorrow could be my last day alive, I could be dead just like that. The inner revelation made the meal seem both more appealing and more sinister.

"Oh my father is a fan of garlic," Karble talked loud so that everybody could hear, and he seemed satisfied when he noticed that one of the Gamemakers were paying attention to what he had to say. "It's great for flavouring isn't it? It packs a punch, so naturally it's great for formal cuisine-"

"It tastes like bad breath," Danni shrugged. Karble looked disheartened, but he ate and talked to one of the Gamemakers about the wonders of garlic. Though he knew a lot about the herb I couldn't help but notice that his garlic toast hadn't even been touched, which suggested that he really wasn't the fan of a stuff. Seemed like a clever trick to get sponsors - and he was charming a Gamemaker too, that in itself had its fair share of advantages.

As usual I kept under the radar. I knew I would during the Pre-Games events, and I probably had a minuscule fan base compared to the Careers who had sponsors desperate enough to drain their bank account to ensure their favourite tribute won. That was an intimidating thing - not only were the Careers more likely to win, but the whole public wanted them to win. It was times like these when I wished I were more confident. Being under the radar wasn't a clever tactic of mine, it was just something that came to me naturally - it would have its advantages and disadvantages. I supposed I was shy, but I liked to act cold and cruel so that nobody felt the need to approach me.

I guess I talked to Abe, but she was much more different than the other tributes. She may have gotten angry easily - I could see it in her eyes - but she was warm at heart, she was a naturally gentle creature who didn't want to inflict harm, but felt that it had to be done. I supposed that was the best attitude to killing that somebody could have in the Hunger Games - and I discovered recently that we had another thing in common: bullies.

I guess it was different for the both of us, but we were both hated and abused by people at some point in our lives, we both knew who bullies were and why they were both disgusting. Abe was bullied because she had a small disability that made her a member of the freakish minority, whereas I had been bullied for being a weirdo, an eccentric scientist with outlandish ideas that nobody ever understood. I supposed that was why people do bully; we never like what we don't know properly.

My mother was one of the scientists who worked in mechanics or something, so I was naturally raised in quite a science based family. My parents didn't force me to learn science, but it just came to me. I guessed that I was an adrenaline junkie scientist; whilst I had a good enough memory to learn scientific theory it was science in action that truly made my insides churn with excitement. I had always had a small fascination with chemical reactions, fire and explosions. Flames were wild and free, only governed by luck and basic logic - they were everything I wanted to be, away from such an oppressive government and world to do as they pleased.

And what was more - fire was my friend. It's warm, it gives and provides life and light. And it could be used against my enemies. Fire also takes life, it kills, it destroys. A small smirk flickered onto my lips like a newly ignited candle. I had managed to score a six by showing the Gamemakers my good hiding ability as well as a nifty skill I had picked up; I could easily deactivate and detonate mines and other explosives. It seemed that the Gamemakers thought that was a good combination.

I never realised that it would make such a good tactic. District Three tributes always do something similar but it's usually with wires, not with bombs. If I could find an explosive or make one and hide around somewhere useful I would probably have a chance of winning... Despite the glowing optimism that had suddenly flared up inside me I reminded myself that I could still die, and that the delicious sausage casserole I was demolishing could be my last supper.

"Do you like that Abe?" I asked as Abe watched the chunks of meat swimming in stew. Abe's melancholy eyes observed me before she smiled weakly and nodded. Of course she liked it - anything made by the Capitol was lusted after by any poverty stricken District teenager, but it wasn't appealing when imminent death was staring at you right in the face. But Abe did have a chance, as did I - We all did.

The Avox slaves scooped up people's empty dishes once Tobias was sure everyone had finished. For a ruthless Gamemaker who was planning our deaths Tobias was a warm fellow who spoke to the tributes who wanted to speak to him (namely the exhibitionist Careers) as if they were equals. His Deputy Ruth was much more cold, and whenever a tribute tried to impress her she either smiled falsely or turned away snobbishly. The other Gamemakers differed - the environmental one was very smiley and talkative, the co-ordinator was quite quiet and shy and the surveillance Gamemaker was drunk and inappropriate. All of these different people were different cogs that ran the machine of death, they'd be the ones trying to kill me.

I liked observing people. I was good with getting them, for some strange reason, though I was awful with actually socialising until I felt I knew the person inside out. I watched as the bowl in front of me, only containing a few soggy dregs of stew, was quickly snapped up and replaced with what looked like a grand slice of thick toffee, accompanied with a thick layer of cream and dusted with flakes of chocolate.

"That's sticky toffee pudding by the looks of it," a deep voice said next to me. I watched as the muscular District Five boy sat in the vacant space next to me with a coy smile. I looked at the dessert with a sigh, it didn't look like the chocolatey mush of sugar that District Six called sticky chocolate pudding. "I'm sorry - I'm Callis... I just moved because the girls sitting next to me were wittering away about nothing and it annoyed me."

The boy didn't enjoy trivial conversation, so we had something in common. I was still weary though, since I didn't know the boy and he had done an awfully good job at staying under the radar. Not wanting to appear rude, I smiled shyly. "It's fine."

"It's weird, that they're giving us such a grand final dinner before killing us, isn't it?" Callis said under a mouthful of cake, eyeing the drunk District Seven boy across the table.

"It's just their sense of humour."

"I don't see the joke in it, do you?" I paused. Innocent kids (or hypnotised ones who were mentally unstable) were taken in, driven to some fancy city, made beautiful, taught to fight and tested on what they learnt, betted on, interviewed, and then murdered? That in itself wasn't really funny, and it was a very grisly form of entertainment.

"We're reaped. Nothing we can do about it - especially with the arena security. You do know that the trackers they'll put in us will have an electric device that will fry us if we even attempted rebelling?" For once I had a lot to say, because I felt Callis ought to know the dangers of being a rebel. The Gamemakers weren't kind to the rebellious tributes in the arena.

"We could rip it out... Or... I don't know," Callis looked at me desperately. "Rayann openly disapproved of the Capitol and she won-"

"She talked the talk, but she didn't walk the walk," I bit into the toffee pudding, savouring the indescribably sweet sensation that warmthened my throat as I swallowed the delicious pudding. "Rayann is dead now anyway-"

"I have reason to believe otherwise," Callis mumbled, nibbling into a large chunk of pudding. Callis seemed genuine and nice - maybe even a good ally if the occasion called for it, but I had to turn away and ignore him. I had common sense enough to know that though the Gamemakers worried about an arena rebellion they were uptight, and thus they had taken extreme measures to prevent such a thing happening. I wanted to defy the Gamemakers, but it would only result in my death - to be quite frank I wanted to live.

But what was the point of living if you were a caged flame with little oxygen to feed from? I wanted to take over the arena like a raging inferno, but why try when there was a big chance of a Career tribute extinguishing me with their impeccable knife skills? I just wanted to be free. For the millionth time in my life I wanted to burn down the Gamemakers' plan, to punish them.

And then a stupid idea hit me.

With a cheeky smirk I grabbed the nearest dinner candle, one that had illuminated my meal in the room (which had grown significantly darker, probably for mood purposes). Abe was too busy watching her allies argue to acknowledge me, but I couldn't help but see Callis' suspicious gaze. I smirked to him mischievously before ducking under the table - Callis wouldn't snitch on me. He and I wanted the same thing, we travelled the same road but we rode on different vehicles.

The flickering candle illuminated the vast, empty space that lay underneath the ginormous dining table. I could make out different tributes' leg, all of them kicking nervously as the seconds dragged them closer to the Games. I crawled forwards, feeling my hands dig into the soft red carpet whilst I edged myself closer to the centre.

I had burnt away memories before, I guessed there was a pyromaniac aspect to me. It was easy to purge every bad memory once a flame consumed it, this wasn't an act of revenge - merely an act of cleansing that could be done so easily.

And it was done, all I did was release my grip and let the candle hit the carpet.

The flames grabbed on to the rough material, seemingly still for a second. I didn't have long to get away - I quickly pushed my body back, edging myself away from the small flame but never managing to keep my eye off it. And then the flame began to soak into the essence of the carpet and spread like a nasty disease, consuming the fancy material and burning away every memory. The flame grew, starting off as a flicker and growing into a small bushfire.

I quickly crawled back to my seat and forced my body into it nervously, whilst accompanied with fog like tendrils of smoke. Callis looked at me nervously, about to speak out as the smell of the flame cooking the room grew more prominent by the millisecond, and soon it filled the room with a smoky stench.

But he was interrupted by a screeching girl from District Four-

"The room is on fire!" She howled, jumping up and leaping back while the whole table mimicked her, desperate to survive. We were all forced on the other side of the room, which was filled with screaming and frantic Gamemakers and Avoxes. I couldn't even see my masterpiece through the crowd of strangers trying to douse the flames -

"The table is on fire!" The District Ten boy exlaimed.

And so it was, my flames had managed to corrupt the whole table and burn it away, along with the plates and food on it. It was like a beautiful bonfire, and when I heard the light crackles of fire and saw the flickering colours of orange and yellow I couldn't understand why some people were so panicky - the Gamemakers clearly had everything under control, but their dinner party was ruined. That was all I wanted.

And then the flames soaked up bottles of champagne and alcohol. There was a moment of inner silence as people screamed, and then the bottles disappeared a split second later - shards of glass were blasted into the sky like bits of confetti as the dinner party reached an explosive climax. More dull screams. More shouts as smoke misted the room as the flames were raised so high they scraped the ceiling -

And then my artwork was extinguished. I was slighty disheartened when the Capitolian fire brigade arrived and put everything out, but it was to be expected. I only wished I could've burnt the whole room down instead of the area surrounding the dining room table, but the flames had managed to leave a gorgeous path of destruction in their wake. The smooth wood of the table was carbonised and black, smoke still lingered around the spluttering tributes (some of them even had soot coloured faces and attire) and there was a blackened patch of carpet.

But there was one sight I didn't want to see.

The Gamemakers and other Axoves surrounded a young Avox boy, he couldn't be older than twelve, as he lay on the blackened floor. His skin, his air - everything was blackened and burnt, like he was a fleshy piece of dying charcoal. I could hear a lot of crying, but I still couldn't distinguish any true noise. My world had froze, and it would never speed up again.

The toasted boy in front of me was dead, killed indirectly by my hand. Nothing was going to bring him back.

* * *

**Well, looks like ALL of the characters have finally been introduced. Which now means *drumroll* you can now vote for your favourites in a poll!**

**Don't worry if your tribute doesn't seem liked, the outcome of the bloodbath will only be quasi democratic - your input will be important, but the reviews submitted and overall character determine who lives and who dies.**

**And the next chapter is the penultimate chapter before the Games begin! I'm ridiculously excited!**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Who do you think will find their end in the Bloodbath?_

Interview Question: Favourite meal?


	16. The Dawn

**Markoz ****Darlington, District 6 Escort:**

* * *

I held on to my two tributes and dragged them into the room, ignoring their silent protests. Both of them seemed submissive, and I knew that Abe could've beaten me easily, but they stayed quiet and obedient whilst I pulled them into the District Six corridor whilst listening to the elevator slide shut behind me. Tobias had given me clear instructions - keep the children safe in their rooms and get them asleep for the big day tomorrow.

"Are you both ok?" I asked Holden and Abe, pouring myself a small glass of wine. Wine wasn't my kind of drink; it was usually too effeminate and sweet, but it was alcohol, so I downed it anyway. Abe looked at me with a small nod whilst sweeping the soot off her Victorian-style nurse dress. Holden looked up at me apprehensively, his skin paler than usual and his green eyes full of terror. I made sure to walk over to him and feel his temperature, just to make sure he wasn't ill, but I could only feel a cold, thin layer of sweat. "Holden? Is something wrong?"

"It's my fault," he muttered to himself, digging his hands into his cheeks as he slumped onto the comfortable couch. Escorts weren't invited to the dinner party, but apparently the event had been much more fiery than intended and the whole feast had eventually burnt down. I did see the wreckage of the room, which was charred and black, every single object showing scorches that the wraith of the combustion had cursed them with. Holden was still very shaken up, I presumed.

"Holden - it isn't your fault..." I smiled and patted the boy tenderly. "Let's have a man to man conversation, alright?" Holden gave me quite a dirty look. "The Gamemakers have told me that the whole thing was a freak accident - a candle had fallen and hit the carpet, that was all."

"It wasn't like that..." Holden jerked his body away from mine. "A boy died in there!"

If Holden survived the Bloodbath, or even if he died in it, the Avox casualty wouldn't be the only corpse he'd see in his lifetime. It worried me that bodies terrified him so much. I cleared my throat and smiled weakly again. "Yes Holden but it was only an Avox. It was a servant and it was mute, what use does it have?"

I could feel Abe's glare on me, so I looked at her apologetically whilst Holden spoke out both desperately and irritatedly. "But he isn't a slave - he isn't a robot, he's a real human with thoughts and feelings... Or he did have them once, anyway."

I was growing quite annoyed. "Holden, this is getting silly - you're being a little bit dramatic, it wasn't as if you killed the thing!"

"But I did kill him Markoz."

Holden's words were quick and blunt, but there was a mystery in them that made the whole room seem empty and haunted. In the background music played from a Capitol radio, but it was fake and drowned out by all the emotions surging through my head. What? How? When? The questions ran through my head as Holden looked at me expectantly, tears obviously in his eyes. Behind me Abe was still, not quite believing her ears. This revelation was too much for anybody to take, everything seemed so scripted and surreal now. There was another thirty seconds of taunting silence as I paced around the room, collecting my thoughts so that I could utter a sentence correctly.

"What do you mean Holden?" The words were so hard to say, as my throat seemed tight and choked.

Holden's words were the ones that I had expected. "I grabbed a candle and set the place on fire - the fire that destroyed everything and killed that boy, it was an arson attack against the Gamemakers!" His voice grew more childlike and hysterical, as if he were confessing to a murder. "But I didn't even scorch them - I just killed an innocent boy!"

The shouts were becoming much too loud for my liking, so I hushed the boy immediately. "Holden! Holden! Shut up!"

The boy clung on to the arm chair frantically, but he still seemed wild and desperate - I needed to keep him quiet for his own good, but even my body reacted slower than usual because everything seemed hard to take into account. Abe was quicker, and she moved over to her young District partner and hugged him lightly.

"How do you do it Abe?" He whispered to her, so low that I could barely hear him. "How do keep in all those secrets and lies? Do they thaw away inside you?"

Abe pressed her index finger to Holden's lips with a weak smile, trying to quieten the boy. Then she thought for a second before curling her fist up and holding it against her chest, where her heart should've been. I didn't understand what she was trying to say, but Holden did - and he seemed almost grateful as he smiled tearfully.

"Okay... Now we're calm," I moved over to the wine bottle and began pouring it again. I liked a drink now and again, but I had never thought of using it as a way to escape. Then again I had never had a boy confess arson and murder to me - and though it was the right thing to do I wasn't going to tell the Gamemakers. If I did Holden was going to be executed or he would have to endure a place worse than hell when he steps foot into the arena. "Holden, you have to be strong. You must forget that Avox creature. If the Gamemakers find out they'll slaughter you-"

"But-"

"No buts Holden. Don't tell anyone, don't give yourself away," I then addressed both him and Abe. "You'll be going into the arena tomorrow and fighting for your lives. In the games there are no rules - well, there's a couple, but you know them. You're allowed to 'cheat' in the Hunger Games, but make sure you do it in style."

Abe's jaw clenched in determination, and I could tell from both tributes' expressions that they knew this was it. They were going to go into the arena tomorrow and get some pretty nasty shocks - I could only hope that it didn't kill them.

* * *

**Robinetro Fidget, District 8 Escort:**

The balcony was cool, and the wind lightly moaned and shook whatever plants it could reach. I admired the dull sunset that slowly began to sink into the horizon. I took one last glance at the fading clouds while a voice spoke behind me, barely audible through the windy howl. There was another pause while the wind swept through my hair again, and I turned to see a short, plump woman. It was Portia, the District Four escort.

"Are you worried for your tributes tomorrow?" She asked, moving over to the balcony and holding onto the silver bars.

For a second the wind stopped, and the only sounds I could hear were the hums of numerous hovercrafts as they rushed to and fro, all excited for the Games tomorrow morning. Soon the silence was broken by my own voice. "Yeah."

"As am I," Portia sighed, leaning over the balcony a bit so that she could observe the blissfully oblivious people below.

"You have no reason to be - your tributes are in a Career District," I told Portia, feeling slightly affronted. I scolded myself internally for almost striking up some kind of argument, but I had the inability to hold my tongue. Lots of my friends did point out I was particularly 'bitchy,' especially for a boy. Portia glanced at me, seemingly cool, calm and collected.

"Naomi isn't in the Careers," Portia told me, biting her lip. "And I overheard Leena telling Fi-Fi that the first person Astrid was going to kill was Micah and then Naomi. I'm... Worried. And just because Blaine is in the Careers doesn't guarantee his survival."

I begged to differ. Micah was Astrid's target and Tarren never reacted well when she was stressed, my tributes were probably both going to be wiped out in the Bloodbath like last year. On a red, towering skyscraper a large screen projected the betting odds for everyone to see. As expected Blaine was at the top, meaning that he had the most chance of winning. I turned around and saw that Portia's natural blue eyes were shining in such a sombre way - what was going through her mind? Did she have any tricks up her sleeve?

"We shouldn't be worrying about these silly District kids," I said after another torturous pause. "Tomorrow everybody gets two or three weeks off work and school! There'll be the Games, and food, and fun! We should be looking forward to this!"

"I suppose," Portia's grip on the balcony tightened. "The people we know and love will have the time of their lives... And as will we, but what about the people in the Districts? They all suffer... Don't they have the same thoughts and emotions as we do."

Portia had a point, but a part of me knew that whatever she was saying it was ridiculous. "No... It's not like that..."

"What is it then?" Portia snapped. "Do you know how guilty I feel when Blaine says he's going to win when he probably isn't? Or when I hear Naomi cry herself to sleep? I don't know Robinetro... I'm having doubts."

I gasped, and Portia knew why; every part of this building, even the balconies that seemed so liberating, were under constant surveillance. The cameras couldn't be spotted by the human eyes but they were probably hidden in plants and nested in cracks in the walls. Portia paused before knowing exactly why I was gasping, and the terror that flooded her face contrasted the casual tone which she spoke in.

"I mean... I'm having doubts about my tributes."

"Oh naturally," for Portia's sake I continued the conversation as if nothing had happened, though a part of me felt guilty - was it wrong of me to camouflage this from The President? I felt like a traitor, but I had heard of the kind of things that happened to District sympathisers. They weren't pleasant, and I wouldn't wish such punishments of my own enemy - let alone Portia!

"Naomi's tactic was to get in the Careers through befriending Blaine..." Portia shook slightly; either the story geniunely worried her of the chill of the wind had crept across her exposed skin. "She didn't know a 'target' would be set. And a target has been set... She missed it by a point Robinetro... One measly point." Somewhere in the background there was the chiming of the elevator doors sliding open, though neither of us turned around to see who it was. "So I'm worried for Naomi now."

In the sky the sun had been replaced by a half moon that looked down on us ghastily, the night sky was still bright but it was fading. The Games continued walking nearer and nearer, but the drama didn't stop - the drama was a powerful locomotion that never halted until the Victor's name had been chosen, and even that Victor's angst was dragged out a bit. I released my grip on the balcony and glanced at Portia. "So Naomi was planning to use Blaine?"

"No... Well... Yes, I suppose," Portia stumbled over her words, before quickly rushing to defend her tributes' honour. "She has nothing against Blaine, she just wanted to survive... I mean any normal person would have done the same, right?" The anxiety had suddenly gotten to Portia, as she began playing with the dark mound of hair on her head. "And I'm not a bad person for not telling him, am I? I mean a tactic is a tactic - it would've been me disrespecting my duty if I made sure that Naomi was caught out... Very wrong and unneccessary..."

"Too bad it didn't work out," I sighed. "Think of all the media coverage - nobody has tried seeping into the Career alliance and corrupt it in about fifty years!"

"Forty five, actually," I stopped in my tracks as a hostile voice killed the conversation. The voice was almost unfamiliar to me, but I could remember it from the interviews - deep, eloquent, smug - it was surely the District Four boy. The horror sunk into me and as I cast a glance at Portia she looked equally as horrified. We turned to Blaine and he continued talking. "Naomi was planning to decieve me Portia? And you just sat around and allowed her to do so?" He paused as her bronze face turned a violent red. "That's disgusting..."

"Blaine, please!" Portia stepped forward, but shielded her face as a plant pot was launched in our direction. It fell down the balcony and rebounded, colliding with the wall and sending fragments of pottery all over the tiled floor. Portia's eyes were filled with tears as Blaine stormed back into the elevator, giving us one last malevolent look and slamming his fist onto the button. The doors closed themselves and Blaine sunk away from our vision, dissapearing as quickly as he had appeared.

"Portia..." I wanted to apologise or sound reassuring, but the whole fiasco was one shocking blur. I couldn't find the words to express my shock.

"It's fine Robinetro," Portia turned away from the balcony and towards the waiting elevator. "Now do you know why I have doubts? Now do you understand that these kids - even the 'heartless' Careers have feelings that our government are exploiting and annihilating?" The elevator arrived, and she stepped into it before giving me one last wry look. "As they say, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and children have been hurt for much too long."

* * *

**Geonova Fillington, District 10 Escort:**

I never noticed that the ceiling was so well decorated. To me it had just been a plain old ceiling, but ever since sleep had been such a hard thing to achieve - since these Games made me so nervous - I could make out the faint gold patterns that mingled with sketched of roses and cherubs, all of them stretching around the room like a beautiful painting. Such subtle decorations weren't noticed in the Capitol, people had too much fun to notice such things, but if I paid attention to anything else I'd think about Leo and Helen and their survival.

Even then it was impossible to not think about their survival. I had no idea if they'd be dead or alive tomorrow, as Leo was stupidly brave and Helen was always a frail thing. On most nights I would expect to hear the Ten tributes talking, eating and watching television; tonight there was only a morbid silence that darkened the atmosphere and festivity I had expected the Games to have. After another half hour of trying to sleep I glanced at the platinum clock next to me whilst my restless fingers clung onto the curtain and threw it aside. It was quarter past one in the morning and the inky sky had allowed the clouds to hide so that they were shadowy silhouettes that occasionally drifted past the fading moon.

Finding no point in sleeping I grabbed the remote control on my bedside and switched on the television. There was a Hunger Games countdown on the television and that Nadia Skettings was enthusiastically interviewing Gamemakers and rich sponsors - I didn't want to watch Hunger Games channels! So - to no avail - I switched on to the music channel which was displaying 'Top 100 Hunger Games pop anthems!" The Hunger Games seemed truly inescapable (which they were). Even the children's channels were showing cartoon sketches of previous Hunger Games.

I reluctantly switched back to the nasally voice of Nadia while sliding out of bed and moving into the kitchen. The fearsome thing about the kitchen was that the light was switched on when I had clearly remembered switching it off. I was nervous, but I simply laughed it off and opened the fridge in search of a midnight snack-

"Helen or Leo, you should remember to turn the light off," I chimed. There was no response, which meant that my nervous tributes were sleeping soundly in their beds. That was the best way to have it when the fight for your life was starting tomorrow! I grumbled when I noticed that our supply of ice-cream was running low, but Leo had always been fond of cold snacks-

I screamed when I caught a flash of purple falling from the ceiling from my peripheral vision, almost like a graceful bird. Whatever I had in my arms had dropped, and I turned to face a laughing Jynx who had just fallen from the swinging fan that hung off the ceiling. She was as fearsome as she was in magazines and on the screen - dark, tall and intimidating with those famous purple eyes that were cutting and dangerous.

"Jynx - you - wow."

"Cat got your tongue?" Jynx chuckled.

"How the hell did you do that?" I asked.

"Oh, we victors have our ways," Jynx smirked before moving over to the kitchen stool. As she slid onto it she stroked an abandoned kitchen knife lovingly, as if she desperately wanted to use it. There was an awkward silence before her amethyst eyes flickered upwards and she giggled. "Come on Geonova - you're a big boy - you can surely handle a little girl like me falling from the ceiling, right?"

"Of course," I lied, though my heart still clenched itself in fright. "What on earth are you doing in here anyway?"

"Looking for ice-cream," Jynx shrugged, grabbing the knife and randomly stroking it across the counter for no apparent reason. Maybe she still lusted after blood - did she come here tonight to kill again? I knew just how merciless Jynx could be; she had killed her sister after all. "I heard that eating it with a comedy movie was the ultimate cure of sadness. Unfortunately I didn't want to wake your little weaklings, so I kept the television turned off."

"And what made you think we'd have more ice-cream than any of the other Districts?"

"Because you have the porkiest tribute," Jynx laughed, referring to Helen.

"She is not porky, she is a big boned girl!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jynx shrugged. "That doesn't matter anyway, I just wanted ice-cream. Frozen delicacies are a basic human right you know? Surely I deserve a bit..." I felt guilt creep over me, and I nodded tentatively as Jynx continued talking. "Oh thank you Geonova! I knew you'd be generous - I wouldn't of dared going to any other District... I'm nothing but a laughing stock over there, who wouldn't be a laughing stock if you were upstaged by the mediocre, generic Nadia Skettings."

Rumour had it that Jynx had cried when Nadia had replaced her. Jynx had loved her interviewer title very dearly, so being replaced must have upset her a lot. Knowing that it was a sensitive subject I decided to be sympathetic and caring, just to let Jynx know someone cared-

"I think you're a better interviewer than Nadia," I complimented. That wasn't necessarily true; Nadia wasn't as interesting as Jynx, but she didn't insult the sobbing tributes that sat opposite her, and she wasn't as biased either. She could be quite rude and apathetic, but nobody could take Jynx's 'evil interviewer crown if they tried.

"Thanks," Jynx mumbled as her fingers drummed on the counter. There was a silence that was immediately broken by Nadia's raspy laugh. The purple haired interviewer in front of me stiffened as if she had heard evil itself, and her eyes narrowed at me. Jynx leaned up and glared towards the room.

"Liar!" She hissed, obviously insulted, storming towards the source of the noise. "You're watching the witch right now!"

"No, no," I skittered after Jynx, desperately wanting to get onto her good side. "It isn't what you think Jynx I just switched on something mindless-"

"Have you ever had something so precious to you snatched away?" Jynx said, suddenly turning around so that I crashed into her. The woman did have exceptional balance, because she stood tall and rigid like a statue whilst I tumbled to the ground. I glanced up at the dark ceiling again whilst Jynx continued rambling - she was choked and actually crying. "Geonova... This is unfair. That position meant a lot to me... All this victor crap means nothing. Winning the first time was fun, but do you think I wanted to poison my own sister? Or do you think I wanted to kill all those other victors?"

I glanced up groggily, finding that my head hurt a lot. "Jynx-"

The tears began getting more drastic, as if a pipe had burst behind Jynx's eyes. It was a peculiar sight because I had never envisioned Jynx as someone who'd ever cry - the Capitol media made sure she had a solid image of a strong, heartless victor. And yes here she was crying. It always shocked me when evil people cried, even the barbaric District children cried a lot when they were sent into the Games. But surely everybody - even Jynx and those District children - were capable of crying and having hearts, right?

I found it hard to believe, but there a part of me that had reason to believe otherwise - there was evidence standing in front of me crying now - everybody had a heart. I stood and placed my hand on Jynx's shoulder, noticing how childlike and vulnerable the purple haired mentor seemed. "We don't have much ice cream left - Leo is fond of ice cream more so than Helen is, but we do have a lot of pizza, you like pizza right?"

Jynx smiled feebly. "I love it."

* * *

**Lillian McNicks, District 12 Escort:**

After listening to hours of my tributes incessant chatter I opened my door and stormed down the corridor, trying my best to contain my anger. What time was it? - One or two in the morning, and my tributes still felt the need to talk instead of rest. I wasn't being unpleasant, but unlike most escorts I actually wanted my tributes to do well (especially since they had no mentor or true form of guidance). My tributes needed sleep and rest if they wanted half a chance of surviving the gory bloodbath that would begin tomorrow morning.

I noticed that they were in Reed's room, and with a frustrated sigh I clung onto the doorknob. Curiosity overtook me moreso than anger this time, so I didn't twist the doorknob, I only leant down and pressed my ear to the cold keyhole so that I could hear what they were talking about. Inside I could hear a feminine voice crying - Reed, of course. A more formal voice was calming her down.

"Reed I don't see why you're worrying," Vigil sighed comfortingly. There was another sniffle. "You're one of the best tributes out there... You stand a better chance than I do! I mean you got one of the best tribute scores than most of the other tributes."

"I got a seven," Reed snorted. "I'm a little over average. I'm tying with Micah and the Ten boy, and the Seven and Nine boys are so much stronger than I am. And what about those Careers? I've learn how to throw knives, but the One girl learnt how to throw them years ago. I don't know - I'm being realistic here Vigil... I'm not going to live."

"Oh Reed," Vigil sighed.

I moved my ear away and peered into the room, sighing when I could see Reed. She was slumped down by a dressing table, her Elizabethan ball gown was the colour of dark soot, and the silky material spread on the floor around her like a dark puddle. Vigil was wearing a normal dark suit, with a white shirt that made him look like a businessman or a detective of some kind. He was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling whilst deep in thought. I couldn't imagine what was going through those tribute's heads - they were dying tomorrow. It wasn't going to be fun for them like it was to the Capitol.

"If it reassures you," Vigil paused before speaking, as if he wanted to get the words out right. "I think you'll survive tomorrow."

Reed smiled and glanced up at Vigil. Earlier this evening her eyes had been heavily made up so that they resembled coal, but her tears had destroyed all of that make-up. It would have to get wiped off tomorrow, as it was never a good idea to go into the arena whilst covered with thick make up. I pressed my ear away and listened to my tributes' muffled voices; they talked about family, home, their allies and the good and bad times. It was all so bittersweet - I wanted both of my tributes to live, I'd fight for it, but only one of them was going to survive if these tributes were to survive at all.

These tributes were mourning in advance it seemed, and to restrain their emotions was insensitive and a bit too austere for my tastes. And so I went to bed - sleeping was easy for me, I wasn't going to die tomorrow. I still had nightmares of what was to come, of the torture my tributes would endure in the arena... Maybe it would be more merciful if they died in the Bloodbath. So many thoughts occupied my dreams and in what seemed like a split second later I was awoken by my screeching alarm.

Six in the morning. It was time to get my tributes up.

I stood up and quickly dressed into something simple - a pretty summer dress seemed like the most practical option. And with that I stormed back out into the corridor, moving to Reed's door and knocking on it lightly. There was heavy snoring coming from both my tributes, which told me they were okay. Reed was probably still curled up by the dressing table, unaware that she was going to be sentenced to her death while Vigil peacefully snoozed on the bed.

My stomach seemed hollow while I opened the door and spoke out. "Reed, Vigil, wake up - come on... It's time for the Games to begin."

* * *

**Well this is almost it, we just have one more chapter and then the Bloodbath begins. If you're all unsatisfied, the next chapter will feature the arena - or a very, very small segment of it :)**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Which tributes do you think will kill in the Bloodbath?_

Interview Question: Do you think you could kill somebody if it guaranteed your own survival?


	17. The Countdown

**Tobias Harte, Head Gamemaker:**

* * *

Rayann howled in pain as the President pressed a nasty looking red button which released boiling hot water onto the poor girl. There was the hiss of water colliding into metal, and I could barely make out a trembling Rayann through all the smoke. Her eyes were wide open in pain and her body was skinny, underfed and burnt.

"Are you going to tell the audience what has been scripted?" The President asked Rayann. Beside me was Ruth, who watched the scene with a kind of indifference I couldn't help but admire. Natalya was also sat on an out of place plush looking chair, giggling every time Rayann sobbed as she filed her nails. Like Ruth I tried to remain apathetic, but whenever I saw my reflection my face was twisted into disgust and horror; I evidently failed concealing my emotions.

"I'm not doing anything for you," Rayann said with gritted teeth. The President's face flashed with bitterness, but his fingers pressed down the button and more boiled water was released. Rayann writhed in her chains, screaming in agony again. Once her whimpering had stopped she glared at President Nystalgia, still refusing to announce The President's cover story to the world.

"Rayann," Ruth calmly spoke. "I think you don't have to endure any more pain if you speak out to Panem's audience and tell them-"

"It doesn't matter now," Rayann thrashed in a futile attemp to escape, but she just dangled from her chains uselessly as if she were a fly trying to escape from a spider's web. "I don't have anything to live for anymore."

"I'm sure I can do something," Natalya looked up with a wild sparkle in her eye, before she rummaged into her purse and withdrew a knife that looked perfect for torture. "Let me convince her daddy - she got it easy... So lets..."

"Natalya," the President looked at her as if she were a naughty schoolgirl. "There are plenty of traitors and rebels to torture in the palace's prison complex, but not one of our Victors." He turned to Rayann and grinned so evilly even Natalya shivered a little bit, but that could've been the excitement. "Rayann, your family are in the other room. Want to save them?"

Rayann looked to the President desperately. "You won't-"

"I won't hesitate, no," the President smiled wittily, running a hand through his silky white hair.

"Okay... I'll do it," Rayann's voice sounded strangled. "Send me into the arena, just please don't kill them."

"That's the sick thing Tobias," Ruth moved closer and whispered in my ear. "Her family are going to die anyway, and we're going to be the ones that kill them."

I frowned. I didn't want to kill Rayann, her mother or her best friend but if I didn't my family were at risk. Nobody mattered more to me than my family did, so I obeyed the rules for that very reason. Even though I had my alibi I couldn't help but hate myself for the things I had to do in order to retain some financial stability; The President needed somebody innovative like me to lead to Games, and I found that I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was pressing a couple of buttons, I wasn't directly killing anyone.

With the touch of a button Rayann was released. She coughed and spluttered as two Peacekeepers dragged her out of the room, ready for her make over before her announcement which would take place before the Bloodbath would begin. The President turned to Ruth and I before smiling and lighting a cigar.

"She's announcing the big twist to the nation," the President laughed as he released a cloud of smoke that swirled into the condensed air. "She's going to tell the nation that she faked her own death to stay out of the public eye, and that she wanted to go back into the Games so desperately I agreed that she could go in on the condition of two people close to her being forced in as well."

"That's great sir," I said forcedly. "Genius."

"What if the public see this as a lie?" Ruth asked the President, who gave her a harsh look through the tendrils of smoke that swirled around his head.

"The public are idiots," the dismissed. "Nobody would care anyway, as long as there's a bit of blood involved."

"The liberals will complain, of course," Natalya spoke out as she stood up from her chair with her blade still in hand. I was surprised she had managed to keep quiet for so long; Natalya was usually outspoken and obnoxious. "But liberals tend to shut up when you stuff a knife down their throat and tear their tongue out..."

The President smirked as Natalya laughed so hysterically she clutched onto her stomach, as if she had made the joke of the year. I could see from Ruth's stone cold expression that she didn't find the joke amusing, and I didn't find it too funny either.

"Now Natalya," the President looked at his daughter lovingly. "Your job will begin soon. You've been awaiting it for a year now, so you better scurry off."

"What job?" Ruth asked.

"You'll see," the President smirked mysteriously before he looked at his two leading Gamemakers. "The Games will begin very soon Tobias... I'm expecting a lot from you, and there is a letter of instructions on your desk. Good luck - you'll need it."

The President moved swiftly from the room, leaving Ruth and I in a metallic chamber which was misted by steam and filled with the stench of blood. After an uncomfortable moment Ruth and I moved out of the room, into a clear corridor.

"That note is going to have another twist on it," Ruth told me matter of factly.

"How do you know?"

"He didn't want me to know, so it must be a twist," Ruth spoke to me as if I were an idiot. My eyes were still tired from the lack of sleep I had endured recently, and this early morning wasn't helping. As we moved to the Gamemaker panel we crossed frantic escorts who rushed to wake up their tributes or Gamemakers who were making last minute touches.

As we were about to enter one of the rooms Dr. Carter walked out into the corridor, knocking into a startled Ruth.

"Sorr-" she started, though Ruth only gave her a frosty look before pushing past the innocent girl brusquely.

"She's in a bad mood," I aptly apologised.

"I think it stems deeper than that," Abigayl told me with a weak smile. There was a distracted look in her eyes before she looked up at me and addressed me more professionally. "I've changed the conditions in the arena, anyway. The sun is shining brightly and there isn't a cloud in sight."

"What beautiful weather for a bloody scene," I said. "Remember to make it rainy or cold later though Abs - or unbearably hot if you're feeling particularly mean - the President wants our tributes to suffer."

Abigayl frowned for a second, as if she didn't want to do what she was told. "Yeah. I'll give them hell alright."

She walked past me and I moved into the room which had screens displaying the whole arena, one I had designed with a lot of thought. The audience at home could only see a thick forest, but they couldn't see past the thick bark or dense canopy - for now what lurked in the forest was only known by the Gamemakers. Though they could see the open fields, tennis courts, watch towers and other telling things that weren't sheltered under forest.

"Ready then?" I asked Ruth as she observed the Cornucopia. The Cornucopia was a golden horn that was shaped into a beautiful fountain, it sprayed out water that glittered beautifully in the warm sunshine. Around the fountain were supplies of many beautiful weapons. These weapons would be brutal. They lay in bright green grass in a threatening manner. There was a weapon for everyone, ranging from medevil weapons such as lances to modern grenades. The more dangerous weapons, like the grenades, were directly in the fountain with flamethrowers, high tech crossbows and other arsenal that could tear the arena apart if it had gotten into the wrong hands. Around the rim of the fountain were more mediocre bow and arrows, knives and swords.

Around those weapons (ranging from ten to seventy metres away from the tributes' plates) were picnic baskets. The tributes didn't know that these little things contained survival gear, and the closer it was to the fountain the more useful it was. The battleground was a small circle, the terrain consisting of grass and flowers - much different to the terrain in the forest - and the only way to escape it was by fighting through the sturdy branches and prickly leaves the trees had to provide, which would allow the tributes to stumble into the true horrors of the arena.

The battleground was pleasant and tranquil for now; it had small park benches, statues of cherubs and greek gods. Lampposts stood threateningly so that they were close to the trees which tributes would escape through, though they were currently unlit. Butterflies weaved in and out of flowers happily, unaware of the bloodspill that would commence around them soon, and the silence was occasionally broken by bird song.

"Nice one Tobias," Ruth laughed when she saw what was engraved on all of the lampposts - 'Panem park and nature reserve.'

"It's not as like as it looks - or it certainly isn't any usual walk in the park," I said as I put my headphones on. Gamemakers circled the room as the last edits had been made and I spoke into the microphone. "Allow the tributes to rise to co-ordinates four one three zero - yes Tarin, that's the picnic area. No, not the one with the nasty little rabbits, the Cornucopia."

And then the tributes rose up. They were dressed in casual attire; the boys wore long sleeved shirts and the girls wore blouses. Both boys and girls had jeans and sports shoes on, like the ones you'd expect Pre-Panem baseball players to wear. Their shirts/blouses and shoes were colour coded according to District, just for dramatic effect. Soon their clothes will be stained with blood or dirt - that thought was both thrilling and very horrifying.

"Sixty seconds," Leein Malpin announced to the tributes, who were blinking under the heavy sun and observing the picnic area around them with wide eyes. Some looked relieved, as if they were expecting something much worse - those tributes were the naïve ones. Some tributes looked curious, though curiosity always did kill the cat. Some looked rightly terrified and others sickeningly excited, but one thing united them - they were all tributes and they were all going to go through hell in the next two weeks if they didn't die first.

Dressed in a golden t-shirt with matching shoes Luster eyed a crossbow longingly whilst uncomfortably holding on to the denim material of his jeans. Luster was a Career with the best ranged skills I had seen in years. Would the silent, autistic boy use his stoic inner self to turn into a killing machine or would he become silent forever? Only time could tell.

"Fifty eight."

Astrid looked at her sparkling, golden summer blouse with disgust. She looked at the boys next to her, the Twelve and Two boys, before grinning evilly, determined to spill some blood. Astrid wasn't your usual daddy's girl, but she was definitely the usual Career girl. Would she kill or be killed? Only time could tell.

"Fifty six."

Archimedes swept his honey blonde hair out of his face, observing the arena and using his calculating mind to work out how he could use things to his advantage. There was something about him I couldn't help but admire. He currently looked like a boy wearing a navy blue shirt with casual jeans and shoes to match, and he looked like the average teenager - but soon he'd either turn into a killer or a victim. Only time could tell.

"Fifty four."

Melanthe gazed at the futuristic weapons that rested in the fountain, and then to the Careers around her. She was a smart girl with a lot of determination, and I had a feeling that this bloodbath wouldn't be the end of her. Was I right or was I wrong? Only time could tell.

"Fifty two."

Karble's skinny body was much more prominent when it was in a warm red shirt. The boy was a shaking, trembling mess who had to say words of reassurance to himself. The boy was charismatic, and he had netted many sponsors, but would that help him in the horrific bloodbath? Only time could tell.

"Fifty."

As the birds sang through the countdown Danni tried to smoothen her red summery blouse, making sure it covered her jean clad legs well. She glanced at a picnic basket close to her, knowing it would have food and other goods in it. Danni knew what to do, but would it get her out alive or soaked in blood as red as her blouse? Only time could tell.

"Forty eight."

Blaine's narcissism got hold of him even when he was in the arena, and he tore off his turquoise shirt so that his rippling muscles were on show. Immediately tributes were intimidated and the audience were drooling, ready to see those muscles in action. Blaine was the perfect Career, but would his arrogance lead to his downfall or his victory? Only time could tell.

"Forty six."

Naomi looked worriedly around at the other tributes, but her eyes met with Blaine's and they shared a warm smile. She then confidently clipped her butterfly hair clip into her brown hair with the thought of home driving her forwards. Would her troubled heart lead her to victory or be skewered by a knife? Only tine could tell.

"Forty four."

Callis looked forwards through the field, squinting under the bright sun as he tried to get a proper glimpse of the forest he would try to escape through. I could see the determination in his eyes; he was going to take a risk and try to get something from the fountain. Callis had a lot of strength, but would it lead him into victory or a coffin? Only time could tell.

"Forty two."

Ava adjusted her round glasses so that they framed her eyes more efficiently before her wide, intelligent pupils scanned the arena around her. Ava seemed at ease, as bored as she usually seemed. Many people had surmised that Ava - being a District Five tribute - was a goner. I thought she was detatched enough to kill. Was this unique girl in an orange blouse the killer I expected or the victim the audience wanted? Only time could tell.

"Forty."

Holden's bright eyes immediately met the explosives stacked around the fountain and his green shoes were raised up on their toes, trembling with fear and excitement. It had been my idea to place them there when I learnt of his pyromania, I had even watched him destroy the dining room, though I didn't dare say anything as it would result in his death - Holden was a smart kid, but soon his fiery desire would consume him. If he got to those explosive all hell would break loose, but would they be his saviour or his killer? Only time could tell.

"Thirty eight."

Abe was silent. She always was, seeing as she was mute. She loved chatter so much the situation's intensity angered her; her fists curled into a ball as she trembled with anger, ready to fight out of the arena. Abe looked flowery in her dark green blouse and brushed back hair, but she wasn't flower - she was strong. Was she strong enough to survive? Only time could tell.

"Thirty six."

The countdown was almost halfway done and the tributes were all tense as seconds seemed like they had turned into hours. Sperren looked at an axe close to him and I wondered if he'd take a risk. There was a lot of spite withon the scarred Seven boy, but that didn't automatically make him a victor. Were the odds in his favour? Only time could tell.

"Thirty four."

Violet's clothes were ironically violet, and she was naturally inclined to fussing over her outfit; did her purple blouse fit right? Were jeans even in fashion anymore? I could almost hear the thoughts running through her empty head. But now Violet was serious; she stood on her plate, trembling as her tears threatened to liquify her make-up. Was this seriousness what she needed, or was she destined to die?

"Thirty two."

Micah's eyes crossed over the field and he nodded at Reed, his little ally. There was a pause and Micah crouched his body down a little, as if he were ready to sprint. I couldn't put my finger on it, but that Eight boy had a few tricks up his yellow shirt's sleeve. Was Micah another bloodbath, or was he a warrior? Only time could tell.

"Thirty."

Tarren held her breath, feeling claustrophobic and enclosed within her plate. Only thirty seconds left and she'd be released. She feared that somebody - including herself - would stumble off their plate and explode, and the paranoia filled her eyes. She held onto her necklace, hoping that she'd beat the odds and get her out the bloodbath. Was hope strong enough for her?

"Twenty eight."

Cardinal's grin was as wide as ever. He felt naked and bare without a blade, but he knew that he could find one soon and he would finally find a way to kill in the Games. It was going to feel as good as the other killings, only there would be a fun battle to add more entertainment to his chase. Would his chase end today? Only time could tell.

"Twenty six."

Even when she wore a blouse as black as midnight Elise seemed so innocent. Tears dripped from her wide, blue eyes as she looked out into the Cornucopia field. I wondered what Elise had to bring to the table, but would the innocent girl die before she could show any survival skills? Only time could tell.

"Twenty four."

Leo's soft eyes looked out into the warm field, watching as a butterfly floated past his head. I could see that he was thinking back to the times he had spent with his family, nostalgia of a sort. Though he had a hard life it would only make him fight harder. Would he ever return to his family or would his death be another unfortunate event?

"Twenty two."

Helen fidgeted as the seconds ticked by, she chewed her bottom lip and tugged on her brown blouse. The poor girl was aware that she could die in twenty two seconds, and that had obviously affected her very seriously. Was the girl going to inevitably die, or would she prove everybody wrong? Only time could tell.

"Twenty."

The words hit Broson hard, and he looked down at his white shoes whilst trying to think of a good plan. Should he die in battle or slowly starve to death afterwards? All he knew was that no matter what happened he had to fight and try to get home to his mother, who needed him. The boy was strong, but would he conjure a good enough plan using his head instead of his muscles? Only time could tell.

"Eighteen."

Petunia had a grim expression on her face. Whenever I had seen her she seemed like a smiley girl, but the joke was over now - this was real and serious. The cool summer breeze ruffled her jet black hair as she contemplated her fate. Was this girl a winner or would her innocent white blouse be stained with blood in the following seconds? Only time could tell.

"Sixteen."

Vigil was on his toes, counting the seconds in her own mind whilst thinking of ways to survive. In the sun his wispy hair seemed white, and his grey shirt made him seem like a wise elderly man. He looked at his ally, Helen, and gave her a reassuring smile. Would his brain get him out alive or turn him into a corpse? Only time could tell.

"Fourteen."

Reed's eyes were still fixated on the superior weapons in the fountain, and she knew they'd all be in the Career's clutches. Her whole body tensed as she readied herself for battle, and her eyes redirected themselves to some knives that were close to her. She needed a good weapon if she wanted a little chance of fighting people with those untouchable weapons. Would the Twelve girl fight or die for a few simple blades? Only time could tell.

"Twelve."

Ruth took one last look at all of the tributes before letting out a long sigh, knowing that that was the last she'd see of some of them. I saw her frown and I smiled, patting her shoulder enthusiastically. Tributes had to die for the Capitol's entertainment, though even I hoped we didn't lose too many of them - they were all so fantastic and interesting.

"Ten."

The President had told me he had left an envelope for me in my office, and I had forgotten to take it. One cue an Avox handed the envelope to me shyly and as the tributes grew tenser, knowing those ten seconds could be their last, I tore out a handwritten letter with sharp, fluid handwriting.

"Eight."

I had to muffle the gasp that threatened to spill out of my lips and disrupt the room around me. The President had another twist in store for Panem and it was going to be beautiful and entertaining, in a violent and macabre way. It seemed a lot of old faces wanted to make their appearance in the arena.

"Six."

I caught a glimpse of my Gamemakers. All of their eyes sparkled whilst they hoped for the best Games yet, all apart from Dr. Carter - her blue eyes were looking at anywhere but the screen and the eerie girl looked somewhat ashamed. What on earth was up with her?

"Four."

In the Capitol streets banners were waved outside as citizens watched the Games on massive screens, the bloodlust building up inside of them. Everybody was tense as they awaited the epic scene before them, hoping that their favourite tributes would make it out alive.

"Two."

I imagined that the Districts would react differently; families and friends were close to tears, praying that their loved ones didn't have to endure any pain. There was probably the occasional maniac who cheered their child on too, but I was sure that many felt the loss creep into their skin like ice cold air.

"Let the Two Hundred and Third Games begin!"

Leein's voice echoed around the room and then the tributes were released as if they were a storm, ready to throw themselves into chaos and blood. I watched, slightly proud and slightly nervous as the scene of chaos unfolded and time finally answered all of our questions.

It was going to phenomenal.

* * *

**This is it. The Games begin next chapter, I haven't said this in a while, but please review. And vote in the poll if you haven't, I haven't written the Bloodbath and your vote could change everything.**

**This is a Hunger Games Bloodbath - I'm not taking the usual SYOT route and killing 2-3 tributes, I'm killing at least 5 at least and 10 at the most, but I'll only resort to those figures if I'm feeling extreme. To those whose characters I'm going to kill, I apologise in advance - this is going to be one of the hardest decisions I make. Thank you all for submitting such amazing characters, and I hate it that the journey ends for some of them, but that's the way of things.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: What do you think of the arena? It's cute, isn't it? ;)_

Interview Question: Do you accept my apology in advance? I've seen readers rage when their characters are killed in an SYOT... I'm actually kind of scared of those rabid things xD


	18. The Bloodbath

**Astrid Evans, District 1, 18:**

The gong chimed around the arena for a sombre second, and then the bloodbath began - I immediately jumped off my plate, laughing as I sped towards the weapons. The powerful weapons in the fountain were good, but I wasn't wasting precious time for them - I only needed a knife to kill. Tingles of pleasure slid throughout my whole body as I realised that I was going to commit my first cold blooded murder soon; this was the moment I had trained for and it was right here, right now!

As I sprinted through in a straight line my golden running shoes crushed the neat, fragile grass below me. I had been worried that my jeans would be tight so that my running was limited, but I was wrong; the fabrics were loose and free, allowing me to run faster than I had ever ran before. I kept my eye out for my two big targets - Naomi was searching for supplies desperately whilst Micah began to run towards the trees, looking desperately for his ally.

I couldn't wait to kill them both.

I shoved a small girl out the way, ignoring her yelp as I carried on sprinting. Another split second and I stooped down and collected some sharp looking, useful knives that seemed like sufficient bloodbath weapons. I quickly turned around to where Micah was and lashed one of the knives at him, but they dived to the ground before they could reach him. Damn! The width between him and I seemed too far. And Naomi had either escaped or I couldn't make her out through the thick crowd of screaming children.

I slowly began to grow impatient. I wanted to run and kill Micah but I'd be letting too many people live if I went after just one person - I had my vendettas but the best thing I could do was kill the tribute nearest to me. Blaine was a couple of metres ahead, stooping up two spears and readying himself to sprint after two innocent tributes, but I wasn't prepared to kill my allies yet. And then a boy with a red t-shirt sprinted past me-

I reacted instinctively, my inner predator swiping its paws at the boy - who was about my age - and leaping on him, prepared to kill. I recognised him as the boy from District Three, Karble or something. I pinned him down as he uselessly struggled and I observed the screaming, running tributes. The Bloodbath had lasted for about forty seconds and there were no casualties!

I could almost feel the anger burn in my head whilst I glanced at the Three boy, whose dark eyes looked at me pleadingly.

"Please - I could be of use," he muttered to me. He had given up squirming and he was now relying on his ability to sweet talk, though I knew that sweet talkers were as dangerous as people who had weapon training. "I have science knowledge... I could teach you how to use those weapons in the fountain! I have the second largest sponsor base and I'll share it with you." I was so tempted to use his talents for my own good, but I clenched my hands around his skinny neck so that his last words were choked out. "I'm particularly good with a bow and arrow - j-just please... Think of my mother at home, she's-"

His words were shut off as I slashed the knife across his throat, and the first drops of blood were spilt, splashed across the bright green grass as the boy quietened and lay still. Though in my head I could still hear his pleads, his powerful words kept on haunting me with his expressive brown eyes. I took a moment to cast the Three boy one last look.

"I'm sorry," I said whilst standing and looking at the gash across his neck, muttering the words I'd never thought I'd say.

* * *

**Archimedes Plutus, District 2, 17:**

All of my idiot allies had grabbed the basic weapons because they were desperate to kill - fools! It may have taken longer to get to the fountain but the plethora of excellent weapons in front of me promised me the most Bloodbath kills out of any tribute. I jogged forwards nonchalantly, leaning over the fountain and observing what lay beneath its clear waters. There were so many things that tempted me - I could spot grenades and metallic electromagnetic bombs, swords with buttons that promised to spout out fire or lightning, even a tube like device that could launch missiles -

My hands circled around a sword with a button on it, and as I experimentally clicked the button I grinned as rings of electricity pulsed around the metallic blade. The Gamemakers were certainly treating us Careers - particularly me - weren't they? I turned around and observed the carnage happening in the field. Astrid had just slit the boy from District Three's throat, Luster was notching an arrow to a bow and Blaine was darting after the boy from District Ten -

My allies were killers but they weren't geniuses, not like I was. I was a god of science now, with the ability to kill anybody that dared step in my path - I moved forwards, laughing evilly as I scoured the field for the stronger tributes that I had to purge. Broson had grabbed a hammer and was preparing to use it as a weapon, the Nine boy was collecting numerous knives, the Eight boy was nowhere in sight and the Seven boy wasn't to be seen either. I stepped forwards sighing, I could spot the Ten girl. A weak kill was better than no kill at all-

And then something collided with me like a meteor. I barely had time to scream, all I could do was be throttled back helplessly. My head smacked the solid stone of the fountain with a gruesome crack and I felt myself slump into the icy water.

Cold water rushed into my mouth and flooded my nostrils as the blood leaking from my head was released in crimson wisps. Everything seemed so blurry and fast until I reminded myself that I had to get up and fight, and with that ambition I pulled myself out of the water.

My jeans and t-shirt were now soaked, and they desperately hung off my skin as the strong boy from District Five grabbed me and threw me into the water again, though this time I managed to regain my balance. Relying on instinct I rolled over and watched as a mace smashed into the wet floor of the fountain where I lay - I always saw the Five boy as a weakling but now he truly proved himself as an opponent.

My tactical mind whirled into gear as the Five boy stepped closer. I desperately reached out for my sword, which had been thrown out my hands when I was hurled forwards, but the Five boy saw my move coming and he kicked it out of my reach. He stepped closer again and his angry eyes looked at me furiously, though I couldn't help but detect an ounce of sympathy.

"Wait - please!" I muttered, knowing it would stop the boy. I shuffled my body away from his, still feeling an annoying throbbing sensation in my head.

And then I grabbed onto a grenade that I had felt as I groped through the water. Perfect. I didn't get any training on explosives, but I knew that they exploded and killed people. I recalled reading a book that briefly mentioned how a grenade exploded three seconds after its pin is removed and then - in that brief nanosecond - my mind blueprinted a plan, a plan that would allow me to win this short battle.

My hands fumbled on the grenade pin, and though the Five boy didn't know what I was doing he knew that my begs were false. He raised his mace again as I quickly unpinned the grenade. The next few seconds were a blur - I threw out my hand so that the grenade swam through the water and rested in front of an unaware Five boy, who stepped forward with the sole intention of killing me-

And then his foot crushed the grenade and there was an explosion that shattered the battlefield.

* * *

**Dannielle Wright, District 3, 16:**

As my hands closed around the wicker handle of the picnic basket there was a sudden explosion that rattled the ground as if an earthquake had just erupted. The violent trembling of the once calm terra was so ruthless I was thrashed into the ground as tiny bits of stone were sprinkled around me.

I glanced up and saw the last second of the explosion, though everything seemed so vivid - flames were unleashed and they engulfed the District Five boy, Callis I remember him being called, in a split seconds the flames dissolved and Callis was gone. All that remained was splattered blood that rested on the decayed fountain and a large portion of the grass surrounding him.

Oh god - this was so wrong. Children around me were finally dying. I didn't expect anything less but it was happening around me right now. Death looked so different when you saw it in real life; there was no dramatic goodbyes, it just happened in a flurry of blood and limbs. I desperately looked for my allies - Abe stood on the outskirts of the field, hanging onto a tree branch with one hand so that she could remain upright. And then her trembling hand pointed at something-

He was only a couple of metres beside me. Karble lay on the ground, his glassy eyes observing the azure sky that was stretched out in front of him. He seemed dead - he was dead, it was obvious once I spotted the sickening gash that was carved into his throat. Karble and I weren't the most compatible of people, we just didn't click, but I knew he didn't deserve to get his throat slit. I paid one last thought to Karble, mourned him for that last second, and then anger consumed me. Anger at the Capitol for doing this and anger at the witch, the girl from One who killed him, or so I assumed -

And now she was heading my way.

I wasn't fast, but there was a lot of distance between us so the girl couldn't catch me out using the element of surprise. With that I stood, grasped a second picnic basket and sprinted away from here, towards the forest as desperately as I could. I had never felt so blessed in my life, and despite the stitch in my side I continued running for my own good.

I didn't want to end up like Karble after all.

* * *

**Blaine Odesius, District 4, 18:**

The District Ten boy was much too fast for my liking - he sprinted forwards, his feet pounding on the ground as if he were a gazelle escaping from a grand lion. I was that grand lion, and though the Ten boy was almost as fast as me (emphasise the almost) he wasn't the boy who had been destined to win the Hunger Games the moment he had stepped into the arena. My full lips turned themselves into a smirk and I raised my spear, preparing to finish him for good.

I launched my spear in his direction, watching as it buried itself into the soft ground in front of him. The Ten boy yelped and stepped back, truly being outsmarted and defeated by me. With an arrogant laugh I readied my second spear, thrusting it forwards in an attempt to impale the skinny weakling - but Leo had stepped aside, gracefully avoiding me.

Thrust, dodge, thrust, dodge. The repetitive battle continued for another ten seconds and I was frustratedly aware that this boy's reflexes were as quick as his run. I slashed my spear at him one last time, and as he moved his head left to avoid me I followed his movements with a hidden dagger I had been concealing; the metal tore through the flesh of the boy's visage, slashing across his face and spitting blood out. The boy cried out in pain, holding onto his face whilst I readied myself to stab him and win-

And then a soft hand clung onto mine, pulling me away and holding me close. I was aware of a face that was like Coral's - beautiful blue eyes, and the girl held me close and sobbed. And then in that moment I realised that the girl wasn't Coral - she was hardly as pretty. It was Naomi, the girl who had grabbed my trust and crushed it in the palm of her small hand.

"People are dying Blaine," she muttered, wiping the tears from her face. Wasn't she an Einstein?

"Run Naomi," I warned her. I still liked Naomi, but I didn't trust her anymore. She was the one responsible for my lack of trust now, she knew she was attractive and she happily used that against me! I was disgusted with myself, I had also cheated Coral by kissing Naomi in the train. I hated her. Naomi hugged herself close to me, trying to use me again.

"Blaine I can't - I can't live without an ally-"

The bitch was trying to use me again. As she embraced me I held her close, allowing her to sob into my chest while one of my hands closed around the back of her neck tenderly. She sniffled, as if she were in a romantic movie instead of a battle. Then in that moment I yanked her forwards and drove my knife into her gut. Naomi gasped as the blade stabbed into her skin, making a sickening squelch sound that made me feel a little bit ill.

And then, as if it were a kiss, I drew my face away and looked into her blue eyes. There were tears in them, but they refused to move - it was as if her being had frozen.

"Blaine..." She muttered.

"Shut up!" I hissed, pulling her forward and stabbing her again. Naomi stiffened, but she didn't dare make any sound. I yanked my blade out of her ruined flesh again, feeling her warm blood seep out and stain my tanned hands while I looked her in the eyes. She didn't look upset now, only betrayed.

"I trusted you," she wheezed.

"And I trusted you, but you were using me, weren't you?" I snapped, grabbing her and holding her close. This time I wasn't gutting her, I was only holding her close whilst my morality cracked a little inside of me. Naomi smelt awfully of Coral, what would Coral think of me doing this? She'd hate me. I didn't care anymore, and to prove it I stabbed Naomi again. "You are a conniving bitch!"

"I'm sorry," Naomi said. Her voice was weak, as if she were fading. She was dying. I had finally managed to claim my first victim, and I never expected it to be my sweet District partner who had charmed me. Naomi swooned forwards, though this time it wasn't my good looks that had made her do so, death was claiming her body and she was beginning to lose control. Subconsciously her arms slid themselves around my neck as she began to crumple and die.

I tucked a strand of her lovely hair behind her ear. "It isn't fast like it is on the television, is it?"

"It's beautiful," Naomi said, surprised she could muster the energy to speak. And then she slowly slid out of my embrace and onto the bloody grass as she muttered her last words. "I'm sorry Blaine. I'm sorry dad... I'm sorry Pat. I'll be okay..." She wasn't supposed to say any romanticised last words, I stabbed into her again as she continued rambling to reassure her family at home. "I'll be okay. I feel like I'm in a warm ocean, really... I swim and I swim but I'll never reach land again... At least everything is calm there, everything is better. "

And then she fell to the ground, dead. It was all so sudden and surprising, but the thrill and euphoric rush made it worth it. I didn't understand Naomi's last words at all, but that bitch didn't mean anything anymore. She was selfish, lascivious and she destroyed my trust. With a new anger inside me I scoured the proximity, running towards my next victim with a grin that wasn't false - it was time to make my father proud.

* * *

**Avalynn Hiebler, 17, District 5:**

I stood around the trees, watching as the bloodbath commenced before my very eyes. It was very gruesome, and I couldn't help but wince a few times - three people had died so far by the looks of it, but judging by the screaming hoard of tributes being targeted by Careers as they desperately reached for supplies told me there was going to be many more. I hoped that the more intelligent tributes would die, because that way I didn't have to worry about anyone escaping the future mind battles I was to bestow on the tributes, but unfortunately I couldn't locate the corpses of the District Eight or District Three girls.

And then my eyes met with the District Three girl; she was at the other side of the field, casting a glance at me whilst her ally tried battling through the thick branches that prevented her escape, stupidly trying to fling the thick branches aside. The District Three girl wasn't as intelligent as I was, but I had a feeling that she was going to be a pain in the rear end. I contemplated signalling something to her, a warning of sorts, but I was knocked to my feet by a boy who was taller and speedier than I.

"Imbecile!" I cursed as my glasses were thrown aside. I squinted through my blurred vision and managed to cling onto one of the spectacles, moving them so that they covered my eyes and allowed me to see sufficiently - that was when I saw the District Ten boy, the one who was a disgrace to the name of science (and he had limited scientific knowledge too!), he was tall, thin and a large cut covered his soft face.

"Tarren?" He spluttered, frowning when his eyes met mine.

I smirked. "Tarren? Your ally?"

"Have you seen her?" The boy glanced at my arm to make sure that I wasn't armed, and he relaxed slightly when he saw that I was weaponless, though he still seemed somewhat weary. He looked back at the Bloodbath, where girls were screaming in both fear and fury as a giant scuffle began. Tentatively he looked back at me, hoping that I had some of the answers.

It seemed like this fool had a bad hero complex and he was fond of his missing ally. It would be fun to use such a thing to my advantage.

"Hmm..." I feigned a puzzled look. "Last time I saw Tarren she was running through the battle ground and she tripped..." I wasn't lying, I had seen her do that. "She looked distressed."

"And then?" The boy was on his toes now, desperately readying himself to run back into the heart of death. "Is she alive?"

"I don't know," I lied. I hadn't seen her stiff corpse lying lifeless on the ground, though hopefully the brainy girl from Eight had been killed. I needed to manipulate and taunt the Ten boy, make him run back into battle - there was no point rescuing a dead girl, but if he thought Tarren was alive and in mortal peril I knew he'd be stupid enough to charge himself back into danger. Perfect. "Actually, I think I may have saw her but the District One girl was chasing the poor thing-"

Leo looked ready to faint.

"Don't worry," I grinned so widely I could almost feel my face split. "She's still alive - though if she isn't rescued soon..."

That was enough to convince the idiot, and soon enough he was running back into battle. What an imbecile - though I couldn't help but notice how sharp and fast he was; hopefully he was slower than the mindless killer Careers, and they'd rid me of the fool soon enough. Yes, that would certainly be perfect. I turned to the trees with a satisfied smirk and pushed myself through them - trying to hack or burn away such thick branches would be a long and impractical method of escaping, so I just bit back my pain and shoved through the sharp branches aside. The cutting prickles bit into my skin hurt, but it would be nothing compared to the pain I'd endure later.

There would be a lot of agony, but survival would be worth it.

* * *

**Holden Gray, District 6, 14:**

The bushes were hard to fight through, but I eventually got through them. My arms and face all had rays of blood leaking out where the skin had been sliced, but the pain hadn't kicked in - the adrenaline hadn't waned away yet. I cast a glance at the Bloodbath, carefully noting who'd escaped; the girls from District Three and Six had gotten through the bushes, as had the girl from District Five and the other one from Eleven. All of the others were fighting for their lives.

I felt so blessed that I had gotten out of the bloodbath with a picnic basket full of supplies - that way I knew I was secure for the next few days if I rationed my food properly. Still, my chances of winning the Games were so low when I was weaponless. If I wanted to survive I needed a way to fight, but how could I survive when I couldn't defend myself from any other weapon? I looked at the fountain once, temptation filling me up while I wondered whether or not I should risk my life for a couple of bombs.

Risking my life for that was stupid - some tributes were lying dead on the ground, there was a massive fight going on and I felt the need to endanger myself again? It was the stupidest plan I could ever think of, but surely a stupid plan was better than no plan at all? If I managed to snag even one bomb I could find a way to use it. Placing my picnic basket in a hollow hole in the tree closest to me I swallowed my fear and charged back into the field.

The bushes weren't hard to push aside once they had been stretched and shoved away the first time - all I had to do was run and they'd helpfully move aside, though some spiked branches still felt the need to nastily cut into my face. Ignoring the blood drawing down me I sprinted towards the fountain - I seemed safe for now; the District One girl was fighting the District Nine girl, who had surprisingly excellent skills for the worst scoring tribute, the One boy was busy collecting arrows and the Four boy was charging away from me.

The Two boy was out of sight, but I was sure he was busy. I charged past the screaming, oblivious tributes as they tried escaping or getting supplies and I dived into the fountain. There were still many supplies in the icy waters that soaked through my clothes, but due to a previous explosion many weapons were charred and ruined. The grand stone of the fountain had a large crater in it and water crashed from the ruined ring of the fountain so that it tidally swept over the fresh grass. There was a lot of blood too; thin, crimson wisps that stained the otherwise clear water.

I forgot the ruined scenery and immediately plummeted my hand into the red water to grab hold of some bombs. I discarded a couple of strange weapons and continued fishing for whatever bombs, grenades or explosive I could find. My hand scraped across the gritty ground of the fountain until I held onto something that I didn't want to see-

A human hand, missing from its body. I yelped and threw the hand aside, watching as it released more blood into the fountain. That hand belonged to a dead person that I barely knew, and judging by the tattered orange material that hung off the bloody flesh it was somebody from District Five. I saw Avalynn escaping earlier so I immediately knew that the arm belonged to the boy I spoke to yesterday, Callis. Now he was dead, or armless at best - the horror was so inexplicable I could only stammer and tremble.

"And what do you think you're doing?" I looked up to the District Two boy, who hung over me as strong as a statue. His face was bruised and grated, but his gleeful smile told me that his morality wasn't remotely injured. In his hand was a sword that seemed to be cackling with electricity, and it was swinging down at me! I squealed and leapt back, feeling a slight shock as the swords voltage passed through the current of the water, though it obviously wasn't strong enough to kill. "I've killed one boy, looks like I'm about to get another-"

My hand clasped around something spherical, and though it was a bomb it had been blackened and destroyed by the previous explosion. Archie's sword swung at me again, tearing through the material of my t-shirt but missing the skin of my chest. With one final surge of adrenaline I picked up something that looked worrying like a gun and pulled down on a small trigger like device, gasping at the effect.

I felt a burst of heat for a second and the Two boy's eyes widened in fear as a jet of flame spouted out of what was obviously a flame thrower, missing him narrowly and heating the air above him. I released my grip on the trigger and watched as the flames disappeared. Why did I need a bomb when I could have this? Grinning I stood up and ran back to the area of the forest where I had hidden my supplies.

And the Career didn't dare follow me, he didn't want to be burnt to a crisp after all.

* * *

**Veronica Vesna, District 7, 17:**

I rummaged through all the picnic baskets in sight, throwing out all the useless stuff they contained. Who needed iodine? Who the hell wanted a box of matches? And why on earth had the Gamemakers stuffed one of the picnic baskets with a blanket? Couldn't you make one of those out of leaves or something? My lips moved into a grin as I put the more beneficial supplies in a larger picnic basket; enough food and water to last me and Petunia a week, a warm poncho that was full of warm summer colours, a toothbrush and toothpaste so that I could look after my oral hygiene, soap, deodorant and a teddy bear so that sleeping at night would be so much easier. There was a knife in there too, but I kind of ignored that for now.

Whilst I glanced around in search for Petunia, my heart felt as if it had been strangled when I realised that she was gone. She obviously realised that going into the bloodbath was suicide, something that I failed to do. I didn't expect rearranging and sorting supplies to be so consuming, but luck had been with me and I had stayed out of the radar! A spear buried itself into the ground next to me and I suddenly realised that I was kind of wrong.

My instincts took over and I screamed as loudly as I could, grasping on to the handle of my basket and beginning to run while another spear slammed into the ground where I was sitting. Years of gymnastics had made my stamina pretty good, so while I sprinted as quickly as my legs would allow me I sucked in the dry summer air and turned around to face my assailant. Oh crap, it was the totally gorgeous Four boy who was strong and deadly who was chasing after me. And I was standing still lamely, unable to move out of fear.

I was going to die now.

The Four boy gave one final laugh, standing still and aiming his spear at me while I continued to remain stiff and silent. I closed my eyes tightly, praying that this death would be painless and quick. And I really hoped that I wouldn't give off too much blood because I wanted to look great during my funeral, and I never got to tell my mother what my favourite dress really was - it wasn't the reaping outfit she thought I adored. There was a shocked gasp from the Four boy and I opened my brown eyes.

And his shocked ones that were so bright they could've been mistaken for gold bulged out of their sockets for a brief second. Blaine still looked surprised, and he stumbled forward to speak though he couldn't do so - blood only dribbled out of his mouth. The hulking Four boy gave one last cry of surprise and then his towering body fell.

And then as Blaine died it all became clear what was happening. My scarred District partner stood over the Career's dead body, which had a large axe buried in it so harshly that the spine was shattered. I stumbled backwards, gasping and expecting Sperren to attack me in succession to Blaine, but he only observed me whilst tearing the axe out of the dead Four boy's back. I wanted to say something, but it was impossible; what do you say to somebody who had saved your life? Did Sperren intend to save me, or was he just making sure he had a kill in the Bloodbath?

"You killed him," I stuttered, wishing that I could find Petunia and laugh all of these grisly sights away. But then it hit me that this wasn't a joke, this was a disaster - and one much worse than a fashion disaster. I knew that my life was on the line but it all seemed so real when I saw tributes die around me. Everywhere I looked there was fighting and blood. "But you... You..."

"I saved your life," Sperren said bitterly. It was true, I owed the guy. I wanted to run away but something held me to the spot. It was either fear or the fact that no matter how freaky he was my District partner managed to make me feel safe and protected, I felt as if I would die any second if I left.

"Now run," Sperren told me, rushing forwards to budge me. He grabbed my arm and tried to move me to no avail, it wasn't the unfathomable relief that petrified me now, it was fear. An oblivious Sperren continued trying to push me out of danger, obviously caring for my life more than he made out he did. But he was unaware of the One boy aiming a crossbow at him-

"Sperren," I whimpered.

"Violet, you're being stupid," his hands clung onto mine as he tried to move me away. He looked immensely frustrated, as if he desperately wanted to abandon me for being such a fool. Maybe it would've been better if he did just leave me here to die, better for the both of us.

"Sperren!" I screamed, feeling my eyes well up.

"What?" Sperren shouted back.

"District One!"

A confused Sperren didn't understand my words, though he turned around to see the One boy with his crossbow. Sperren was so fast and strong, though this time he wasn't fast or strong enough. The storm of arrows were released and the scarred boy who had actually cared for me was hit. The boy who I was forever indebted to was forever dead.

* * *

**Tarren Keenan, District 8, 18:**

I tried squeezing my eyes shut as the Bloodbath rolled on, but a horrible entity possessed me and forced me to continue watching. It was a miracle that though I was curled up in a ball trying to rock my troubles away I was currently unscathed, I knew that if I continued being such a fool I'd meet my end. I tried to move, but fear squeezed me so tight I remained still and unmoving.

And then another child had died right in front of my eyes - that was the fifth individual to die, and I had a feeling that there'd be many more. The District One savage released numerous, consecutive arrows at the District Seven boy, who had had his back turned. Blood sprayed out of the silent, scarred boy and his District partner screamed as his corpse fell on to her. The ditzy girl grabbed onto the nearest picnic basket and ran off screaming as the One boy reloaded more arrows so that he could claim more victims.

The One boy scared me the most - he was the ranged Career, the one you couldn't run away from as he could hit you from any distance he wanted. Even then the other tributes were distracted; the One girl was fighting the District Nine girl whose knife skills deserved a training score of nine instead of a one. The District Two boy was collecting all of the weapons left in the blitzed fountain and his District partner picked up a sword shakily, prepared to kill. Both of the Four tributes were dead, and I felt somewhat ashamed that I was relieved, but that was two major competitors out of the way.

But even though one of the boys who had scored an eleven was dead the other boy - Luster, I think he was called, held onto his crossbow and looked for a new victim. He was the strongest tribute now, and I was dead if he found me. Whilst he surveyed the area he somehow didn't spot me, probably because I had shrank into such an unnoticeable little ball. But he had spotted Micah, who was speeding across the field.

Micah was pretty fast but I doubted he was speedy enough to dodge arrows. Somehow I was wrong, and an out of breath Micah continued racing forwards as so many arrows narrowly missed him. Eventually Luster managed to score one hit, and Micah cursed and dropped his bundle of supplies. Despite his loss of goods Micah didn't dare stop running, he couldn't let an arrow in the elbow scupper his chances.

Though his ally, the stony faced Twelve girl, raced in and swooped up the dropped supplies like an eagle grabbing a mouse before devouring it. The One boy was so relentless, and he shot one final arrow - Reed rolled over and successfully avoided the expected arrow before she pushed herself to her feet and sprinted away. Luster paused as he reloaded again, giving Micah and Reed the time they needed to get away.

I was glad Micah and his ally had escaped. Though the last time I had seen Leo was when he was shifting nervously on his plate I hoped that he was okay too. I couldn't see him amongst the dead, or even the fighting living, so I assumed he was alive. Knowing that I was probably going to die I begged a probably nonexistant god that Leo, Micah or - in desperate times - Reed won this stupid thing.

But I wasn't definitely going to die. All the Careers but Luster were distracted in one way or another, and I was alive and relatively okay. With that small reassurance I managed to unlock the terror that caged my frozen limbs, and slowly but surely my knees raised so that I could stand up. I sighed with relief when I was standing, and in one last bid to escape I grabbed an abandoned picnic basket next to me and ran for my life.

And - just as the wrong moment - I had been spotted. An arrow soared past my shoulder, scratching through the yellow material of my blouse. That was undoubtedly Luster. It was stupid, but I instinctively screamed as loudly as I could and ran faster. I had never considered myself a fast runner, but for once in my life my feet kept on pushing me forwards; my lack of stamina tried to defeat me, but I ignored the agonising stitch and ran on.

I think another arrow was fired at me, but I avoided it when I had tripped over rock that was hidden in the grass. I screamed whilst the arrow whizzed past my head - the fall had saved my life, but now my face was in the mud and I was crying. I had given up. The District One boy was going to kill me. Out of a dangerous curiosity I peered up to look into the eyes of my killer, trembling and sobbing as he edged closer to me. His hands were firmly on the crossbow, ready to release the notch and send an arrow into me-

"I'm sorry..." He said, and he meant it; I could see the pain and regret in his eyes while the crossbow trembled.

"Just make it quick," I whispered.

Luster nodded and kept aiming at me for another ten tense seconds, and for the first time ever I wished that he would hurry up and get it over and done with. This dying stuff wasn't something I had written in my schedule, and I hated it when schedules were broken. I watched Luster for another second, but then his hands sunk and he lowered his bow away from me.

"I can't."

I couldn't believe it.

"Just run Tarren," I wondered how he knew my name, but I followed his orders and continued running from him anyway. A sadistic, psychopathic Career let me escape? Surely there was something wrong with that. My sunken heart told me that I had to stop contemplating, and that I had to act in the moment -

I screamed as I hit something tall and heavy on my run to the forest, but I was automatically happy when I saw the injured face of my ally Leo. Despite the gash on his face he was still happy, as relieved to see me as I was him. I clung on to his hand as he lead me away, and the contact made me uncomfortable as it always did, though it was so much better than the danger.

"You're my hero Leo," I laughed nervously. Though for the first time in my life I was wondering who the hero really was.

* * *

**Cardinal Volke, District 9, 16:**

There were so many blades here! It all made killing perfect for me, knowing that I had a blade for every occasion - I had collected thirty and slipped them into a makeshift belt that I had to tie around my waist a couple of times. If I had things my way I'd use a different blade for a different tribute, but I wasn't stupid enough to think I could kill every tribute - five or six were dead already - but I had enough to make killing fun. Curved blades that'd make disfiguring fun, serrated ones that'd be perfect for amputation, blades as thick as cleavers and even tiny ones that would make torture fun.

Once I had enough knives and a bit of food and water I glanced around at the live tributes. Most of them were Careers who were hunting the remaining district kids (the others were dead or they had escaped). The only live tributes were the District Ten girl, who was vomiting into the grass, the Eleven boy who was being surrounded by two Careers and Elise, who was fighting the One girl. I was tempted to kill someone, but this wasn't the time or place.

Elise and the One girl's fight came to an abrupt halt when the agitated Career girl gave up, slashing Elise's palm as quickly as she could before running off and helping her cohorts kill the remaining children. Elise looked at the gash in her palm as I sped up towards her. If we didn't leave soon the Careers would begin to gang up on us-

"Elise, we have to leave now!" I shouted, grabbing onto her injured palm and listening to her sob out in pain. The pathetic little girl may have handled a Career than I expected, but she took injuries ridiculously. To prove a point I squeezed her palm harder and continued dragging her, but Elise dug her feet in the ground and resisted my attempts - what the hell was wrong with the idiot? "Elise we don't have time for this..."

"Ow... C-C-Cardinal!" Elise spluttered and sobbed as I yanked her forwards so hard she was forced to the ground. Her face was pulled through grass and mud and she looked at me through tearful blue eyes, so innocent and sickening. "Cardinal stop it! Please... It hurts Cardinal... It hurts!"

"Stop being pathetic, it's a measly cut..."

"No it isn't," Elise buried her head into the ground and sniffled uselessly. In the background the two Careers were still busy fighting Eleven boy, and the One girl was now after the Ten girl. Soon they'd be on to us. I didn't plan to kill in the Bloodbath, especially not Elise, but for some reason she was being pathetic and potentially killing me because of her weakness. Elise was lucky, unlike my future victims her death would be swift, instant and quick; just a slice to the throat to put her out of her misery. With a nasty grin I leant down and took out one of my knives, stooping in to finally kill my rival - my evil little District partner-

And then the girl gave a savage cry and leapt at me, the momentum of her push was so powerful I was forced into the ground. My knife which had been so intent on killing lay a couple of metres behind me, useless and lame. I tried to fight back but Elise's feet successfully pinned back my shoulders. I was easily stronger than Elise but her feet tactfully pinned me down in the right places; I was well and truly imprisoned by the small girl.

"Oh Cardinal," she giggled. "Why do people fall for that every time?"

"You're a good actress," I told the girl whose eyes had turned from a warm ocean blue into a deadly cave of ice. It almost hurt looking at her. "But acting and taking action are two different things - can you take action little girl?"

"Let me think... I took action against my family... I took action against that stupid Avox who never got my orders right..." Elise pretended to contemplate for a couple more seconds, and though I thought that made a good diversion she still made sure her legs chained me to the ground. "And now I'm going to take action against you!"

"You won't win," I smirked, though I felt worried when Elise brought out her sharp dagger. "You're much too pathetic to win..."

"You're a serial killer aren't you?" Elise said casually, leaning down so that her face was inches from mine. I considered tearing my teeth into the girl's cute button nose and tearing a chunk of it off, but the girl held my throat down and laughed. "Do you know what happens to murderers? They get punishment for their sins. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a death for a death... Idiot Cardinal, I think it's your turn to die."

And then she tried jamming her knife into my throat, though I summoned the strength to break one of my arms free and grab onto the blade before it could reach its destination. Elise tried to continue driving it forwards, but I was much stronger and she was the one who was losing now. The sharp sides of the blade prickled into my skin, threatening to cut it if there was too much friction. Elise looked truly worried now, her blue eyes wide and scared whilst she whimpered and cried; she was genuinely a scared, small girl now, I could sense it. Laughing and using it to my advantage I used one burst of strength to make the dagger turn and slam into the girl's throat.

Only it missed and went straight into the girl's mouth as she screamed. The sight was somewhat sickening, even for me, and Elise stopped making any noise as soon as the blade sliced throat her tonsils. She spluttered and coughed out beautiful blood onto my face before rolling over and leaving this earth permanently. I breathed out in relief and crawled forwards, grabbing onto my blade and smirking.

"All killers get punished Elise," I laughed as I grabbed onto the food I had dropped. "Be careful what you say... It might rebel against you."

I cast one last look at Elise's corpse. Her mouth was widely agape, as if her jaw had been wrenched open. The handle of the dagger protruded from her mouth, like something she couldn't gain the strength to swallow. I smirked evilly while I noticed a puddle of blood beside Elise's mouth with a little, pink mass of muscle lying there. It seemed as if I had tore out the girl's tongue. I yanked the bloody blade out of the girl's mouth and laughed as I ran away from the scene, knowing I'd always remember the girl's wide open eyes and ruined mouth.

She always did need to learn to shut up.

* * *

**Helen Aspen, District 10, 14:**

Astrid swiftly kicked me down into the ground again as I tried to clamber up. I should've expected to die - but then again, I did outlast so many other children, who were all lying around me in their grassy grave. But I had thought, just as I ran towards the forest, that I could've survived. Maybe it would've been easier to have died with one swift stab instead of being pulled around like a useless toy. Astrid shouted once again and I felt her foot slam into my back, making my spine rattle and send waves of pain around my whole body.

At least it wasn't broken. I didn't want to come home as a corpse whose back had been snapped into two, that wouldn't have been a pretty sight anyway. I wished Vigil was here - he was with me as we were about to escape and now he was just gone. Did he leave just as Astrid had tackled me to the ground? I didn't imagine he would abandon me so easily, but he did. Tears stung my eyes as I felt betrayal stab me harder than any of Astrid's knives ever could. This was why I didn't trust anyone, all humans were like my mother; unreliable and unjust.

Astrid rolled me over so that she could see my tear filled eyes as she stabbed me one last time. In those eyes were the Career's typical wicked mirth, but there was something much more disturbing - a minuscule amount of sympathy, regret and remorse. I couldn't stand looking into the eyes of my killer, so instead I focused on the unlit glass of the lamppost hanging above our heads, mere inches from the forest that we should've escaped out of.

And then I paused when I had seen the most absurd thing - Vigil was desperately clinging onto the top of the lamppost, his grey hair being pulled back by the breeze as he fiddled with something, armed with a screwdriver. I felt kind of relieved, Vigil hadn't abandoned me, but what was he doing? His eyes met mine and he realised that I had noticed him - his truculent smile told me everything.

"What are you looking at?" Astrid told me, when she saw that the fear had faded from my eyes. I pointed towards the sky with trembling, pale fingers. Astrid was perplexed at first, but her gaze followed my pointing. She slowly turned and her heart froze when she saw Vigil, who was making the last touches with his screwdriver. It then hit me that whatever he was doing, Vigil was unscrewing something and that could be dangerous...

There was a pause, and then the lamppost groaned loudly in protest as a snickering Vigil made some of his final touches.

"Geronimo!" Vigil cried.

As Vigil sillily leapt off the lamppost something fell with him - it was the glass casing of the lamppost, he had unscrewed it and now it was falling! Astrid had noticed and she leapt aside with a scream as the two fell in perfect motion. My heart froze, but luckily my body allowed itself to move and I rolled aside as the glass plummeted into the ground. There was a large smash and a wave of glass washed over me like a rain. Beside me a exhilarated Vigil groaned and then laughed; the very fortunate boy was not harmed. But he hadn't betrayed me trust - he had saved my life!

Or saved it for the time being; Astrid had not been hit or hurt my the glass, merely distracted. She cried out in frustration and stood up, though that was warning enough for Vigil and I to run as fast as possible. After a couple of metres running I was fatigued, but I continued anyway despite my ceased breathing and the painful stitch that punched into my side. I heard a knife narrowly miss us, but I didn't care - neither did Vigil. We forced ourselves through the rough forestry and shrubbery, only content when we were sure the One girl had stopped following us.

* * *

**Broson Gray, District 11, 17:**

Suddenly I was the only one left for the Careers to hunt. I had started off fighting the pair from District Two, who weren't as difficult as I imagined. Now that the bloodbath was over and tributes had escaped the Careers were circling me like a pride of lions. I detested them all - Luster's sharp eyes, Archimedes' cunning grin and Astrid's high pitched laugh. Luckily throughout the Bloodbath I had managed to collect my fair share of supplies - maybe even enough weapons and contraptions to escape. During the Pre-Games events my hope had started to diminish, but instead of wallowing in self pity I had decided that I had to fight to return home to my mother. I couldn't just die and leave her with this bad image of me.

With a battle cry Astrid charged at me, waving one of her blades furiously. Astrid's attacks were swift and quick, though her weakness was my strength - years of bullying and beating the innocent children in my District had only added to my natural power. I barely managed to block one of her attacks with the mace I had obtained, and I used the weapon to push her back so that she was flung to the ground.

I turned around just as a sly Archimedes had crept behind me, readying himself to stab me. It was a worrying thought, but I'd have died if I hadn't turned. I cried out and lashed my mace at him, hearing a satisfying crack as I watched the Two boy slump to the ground in agony. Luster shot arrows at me from a distance, but the only bounced off the thin yet effective armour I had draped over myself.

"No," I muttered to myself, desperately scrambling to the side as Astrid lunged at me again - I continued running, feeling the dry hair hit at my face as I sailed through it, feeling the bloody grass at my feet get crushed and ruined - Luster had stopped firing numerous arrows at me, which was always useful. I felt trapped, but I was only prompted to carry on. The same thoughts continuously raced through my head; home, mother, home, mother.

And then I cried out as I stumbled over a dead body. It was the District Four girl, who lay comfortably in the grass as if she were having a peaceful sleep. I couldn't help but notice how alive she seemed - everything was untouched except for the bloody wound in her stomach. All it took was one stab and she was dead, gone from this earth forever. I saw the Careers begin to charge after me, and I realised this time I had everything to lose. That girl had loves, likes, dislikes, hobbies and passions. Now it was gone. She couldn't even be sad - she couldn't even feel anymore!

Those words summoned an incurable sickness that sharply lurked in my stomach, threatening to empty the breakfast I had scoffed down today. Restraining the vomit that tried rising from my throat I shakily stood, my weak knees allowing me to run off and survive the Bloodbath. I genuinely thought that I'd have died, but I was alive, alive in a thick forest where the thick and opaque trees blocked out any sort of light.

Now I needed to focus on surviving.

* * *

**Reed Ardice, District 12, 17:**

There was a horrible pause, so peeking through the bushes I managed to catch the last scene of the Bloodbath. The Eleven boy weaved his way out of the Career's fingertips, which was quite amazing; he was only inches away from death and yet he had survived. I felt twisted for thinking it, but it would've been much better if that boy would've died - one less competitor that I'd have to kill myself.

There was a sudden silence as the Careers walked around, picking up spare supplies and checking the dead tributes. The new silence that had controlled the arena wasn't welcoming, it was a slow painful pause that made the air turn stagnant and made my whole tremulous body freeze. There were six cannons - with each deafening blast that thundered through the arena I was aware that a different life had been taken for each of them. The silence after the cannons was even more morbid and torturous than the first, those children were nothing to me - but they were still kids.

An oblivious Micah broke through my thoughts. "Erm, Reed, I know you're thinking of a better place but I have an arrow in my elbow and it hurts like hell!"

"Stop whining," I sighed, turning around and looking into the eyes of my rather amusing - and ridiculously annoying - ally. He smiled cheekily as I grabbed onto the arrow in his elbow, holding it lightly and observing the damage. "You're not dead unlike six other people."

"You're chirpy," Micah grinned sarcastically, biting back a cry of pain as I suddenly yanked the arrow out of his elbow, accompanied with blood and unwanted bits of dead flesh that followed too. Sickening. I hardly knew about medical stuff, but at least I knew about bandaging. "I think it hasn't hit anything major, so stop being a crybaby..."

"Am I crying?"

"No, but you look like you've seen something very ugly," I frowned, throwing away the blanket of the picnic basket and smiling when I found exactly what I wanted - bandages! Whilst I wasn't a miracle healer I could certainly bandage a wound. Paranoia buzzed through me - what if Micah was badly hurt? I supposed he'd be reacting differently if he had, and the arrow didn't go in too much.

"I am," Micah said casually as I tied the bandage around his wounded elbow.

"Hm?" I bit my lip slightly, praising science, god, fate or whatever else dominated the earth - the bandage seemed to stop the bleeding quite easily. Everything was going to be okay. Why did I even care about Micah anyway? I'd only known him for two to three days; as long as I was uninjured.

"I am looking at something ugly."

I frowned and hit Micah's injured elbow, pausing when he whelped. The Careers didn't seem to notice. With a growl I grabbed our supplies, not bothering to see what else we had, and with that I charged away from the Career base. They'd be hunting very soon.

"You know my injury mightn't be that serious, but I'm not superman," Micah grumbled as we walked through the thick forests. The trees were a finely crafted hazelnut colour, they twisted and turned with a head of beautiful, green leaves. But they were very thick, abnormally dense and squashed together, with ongoing roots that were always on the ground; did the Gamemakers make these trees like that on purpose? The trees were like a wall that defended its land of sunlight, so little of it filtered through.

"This forest is pretty, but I have a bad feeling about it..." I muttered.

"Maybe that's because it's designed to kill us," Micah shrugged as if he were talking about the weather.

That was true - six wasn't a meagre body count, but there had been much bloodier bloodbaths in the past. The Capitol's quench for blood had been momentarily satisfied, but as I looked at the abnormally solid ground beneath my feet and the equally strange, sturdy roots I couldn't help but feel that it wouldn't be long until the Capitol wanted more death. They always did love death and misery afterall.

* * *

**Early update before I go off on a small weeks holiday!**

**I am SO sorry if your favourite/own character died. This was so difficult for me to write, and I know I've lost 6 amazing characters-**

For reference, they are (in order of death):

Karble Ive, District 3, 18.

Callis Carlson, District 5, 15.

Naomi Lee, District 4, 16.

Blaine Odesius, District 4, 18,

Sperren Prazna, District 7, 18.

Elise McElroy, District 9, 13.

**They will be missed by me - I'm not even joking.**

**On a side note though it is an innocent park forest this forest isn't a usual 'oak tree and leafy ground' forest - its landscape and setting is based off a sinister forest called 'Aokigahara' that I found online. Look at pictures of it if you want to imagine the forest our tributes are in vividly, and - if you want nightmares - the chilling backstory it has.**

**And wow, the Games have begun! This chapter was long and action packed... I hope you enjoyed it!**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: If you could resurrect one dead tribute who would you choose?_

Interview Question: If you were in the Hunger Games do you think you'd be a bloodbath?


	19. The Repressed

Day One, Afternoon:

_"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything."_

_― Mark Twain_

* * *

**Aibileen Karpis, District 6, 16:**

"That's six dead," Dannielle said with gritted teeth as I yanked away stray branches. Both Dannielle and I had gotten out of the Bloodbath unharmed, yet there was something distressful about my ally's features - they were smeared with dirt and grime, and her eyes seemed fiercely determined yet uselessly hopeless. Whenever Dannielle spoke I could sense that she was feigning something - hope? Determination? She was trying to appear stronger than she was. "We're a quarter way there Abe, how about that?"

I smiled weakly, though being a 'quarter way there' didn't mean that we would win. Danni seemed to think otherwise; the Three girl was as hostile as ever, though there was a nauseating optimism that she acted, and her cloak of chirpiness didn't suit her one bit. We trudged along for hours, refusing to stop. Out of Dannielle and I my stamina was superior, though Dannielle was easily more determined. No matter how red faced and out of breath she seemed she was constantly battling with herself, pushing herself forwards and refusing to stop. Her determination could not be insulted - was it admirable or foolish?

We continued walking for at least seven miles. By this point the afternoon sun had cast a spell on the forest, making a nasty heat seep in to replace the blocked sunlight. I wasn't fatigued, but my legs ached and longed for a rest. Wiping the sweat from my brow I slumped down, leaning against one of the thick trees.

Dannielle turned around, insulted. "Why are you just lying down Abe?"

Dannielle's sign language knowledge was limited, so I simplified the complicated sentence I wanted to tell her. Oh if only I could talk - even if Dannielle was fluent it was hard to truly express yourself with your hands whilst they were holding onto a picnic basket. I looked at her and signed 'I think we need a rest.'

Dannielle leant against a tree, rubbing her hands across across her jeans, trying to massage her tired legs subtly. "No Abe, it's only lunch time! We need to carry on."

I shrugged.

"This is not a shrugging matter," Danni frowned. "If we stop now the Careers will find us! You're getting lured into this false sense of security Abe, we need to keep moving. The Careers go hunting regularly!"

'They only go at night. We need rest.'

Dannielle watched my talking hands, before frustratedly putting her hands on her hips and putting on a bossy, controlling side of her that I disliked. She glanced at me sternly for a few seconds before her own inner tiredness made her crumble, and she sat down with her back against a crooked tree that seemed so much feebler and pathetic when compared to the towering, strong trees surrounding it.

"Fine," she said. "But only for a few hours though, okay? We don't want the Careers to find us."

A smile slipped across my lips. When I was resting my mind was also at rest, so I had time to process the jumbled, rushed thoughts that had raced through my head all day. Somewhere in the distance a brown sparrow watched us intently on a high branch - the forest was an eerie place; in the day it was beautiful, with the choir of birds always singing their praise. The roots covered the leafy ground, which was a compound of earthy, autumn colours that were pleasing for the eye. The trees' canopy was thick and verdant, blocking the strong sun so that little beams of light danced down and illuminated the ethereal forest. Yes, the forest was certainly beautiful, but when night struck it would only appear haunted and possessed.

Memories of the Bloodbath still flashed through my eyes. I was lucky enough to leave the horrible scene quite early - but I still heard the cacophonous screams of so many children, all in sync with different pitches and rhythms. I still saw knives flash and blood splatter across the lush, green grass. It was a haunting scene, and when I truly realised the brutality of it I knew I'd remember it forever. That innocent field with its fluttery butterflies and horrid grass was a graveyard, one in which six children met their end.

Those six teenagers would have their face displayed mockingly in the sky tonight. I was kind of glad that the thick trees would block the view of Karble's face - he had his flaws, but I liked Karble. He could do everything I dreamed of; he could manipulate words to make people laugh, cry and change their ways. He was a politician who told me interesting things about history, food and even something about economics, though I found economics dull. He wasn't as nasty as Danni liked to think he was; he was kind, even sympathetic sometimes. Now he was dead. All the One girl did was slash her knife and he was gone.

I hoped Holden didn't go the same way. He was small, meek and a nice kid. I didn't have any siblings, but after meeting Holden I kind of knew what it was like to have a little brother. I liked Danni, but I think I wanted Holden to win if I were to die. Seeing his face in the sky would've upset me, but he was no martial arts expert - surely he could be dead? I wouldn't put it past him. If Karble died, Holden could've easily died too.

Tears might have been filling my eyes, but I didn't notice. Unfortunately Dannielle did.

"What are you doing?" She asked, taking a careful sip of water. Dannielle did ration our supplies quite well, I had to commend her for that, but it was a bit annoying when you were scolded for taking more than a measly gulp.

'I was thinking about him.'

"Him?" Dannielle replied vocally, trying to hide the upset look on her face. "Who is 'him?'"

'You know,' I replied, moving my hands swiftly and angrily.

Dannielle snorted. "I have no idea who you're talking about."

'Do I have to spell his name?'

"No," Dannielle's voice quavered.

Remembering the sign language alphabet, I proceeded to spell out the name of our dead ally 'K-A-'

"Stop Abe," Dannielle pleaded.

'-R-B-L-E.'

"Stop it!" Dannielle screamed so loudly the sparrow close to us flew away in fright. All of Dannielle's pretences had faded now; for that brief second she didn't care about how strong she appeared to the audience. All the angst and pain she had withheld was coming out in waves of anger and sadness. "I hated Karble, okay? He was pompous, horrible and manipulative... But I knew him so well. I had to sit in the town square and listen to the enthusiastic speeches he gave, in technology lessons I sat next to his friend Micra... She was nice and she adored him." Danni took a moment to recover, and she used her hands as makeshift tissues so that the tears were wiped away. "It's just strange to think he's dead."

I moved over to Dannielle and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, making sure to let her know that she wasn't alone. Karble may be dead, but his memory would live on. He wouldn't be forgotten, not by Danni and I anyway. We had to fight for him, and maybe even avenge him; it was a silly thing to want, but I hoped I came across a weakened District One girl so that I could show her just how angry I could get. With clenched fists I looked at Dannielle, who had perked up considerably since her outbursts.

Throughout my whole life I had suffered from a lack of communication - it was funny that I found solace and friendship in the Hunger Games of all places.

* * *

**Luster Harbetto, District One, 17:**

The tributes had managed to take a nice portion of supplies in their desperate scramble to escape. About a third of the supplies, I estimated as I surveyed the blood soaked field - the Careers had the advantage with the food. We had enough supplies to last us two or three months, and I doubted the arena lasted that long. My heart felt constricted as I thought about what would happen in two or three weeks. Would I be alive? I'd either be a rich victor or a rotting corpse.

I had the highest score in the arena now that Blaine had died, so technically I was the 'most likely' to be victor, though I knew most likely meant nothing in the Hunger Games, where luck and chance were equally as important and skill and strength. There were only four Careers now, but that didn't make our group any less dangerous - if anything we were as dangerous as ever. Archimedes continued taking the powerful weapons that hadn't been destroyed from the fountain, putting them into one large knapsack. Astrid observed the tributes' carcasses with her feline like eyes. Melanthe was the odd one out - eating a sandwich she had found. Melanthe wasn't like the usual 'throw in Career.' She wasn't psychopathic, but she was certainly a fighter.

"Six is a measly number," Astrid grumbled, wiping a blood stained knife on some grass.

"More pieces for us to play with," Archimedes chuckled whilst he kicked the dead body of the District Three boy. "So who got the budding politician?"

"Oh I did," Astrid gloated, sweeping back her strawberry blonde hair as she rummaged into a picnic basket and took out a warm blanket. "He was my first kill - you should've seen me! He ran and I grabbed him and pulled him down while he was mere inches away from escaping! And then bam... Just like that I slit his throat."

"You lionise yourself too much Astrid," Archie laughed as he kicked the body away.

The fact Astrid talked of murder like a sport was what made her worrisome. But then again it would be hypocritical if I criticised her - I myself had killed a boy. I didn't think anything about it, it was a bland sensation that didn't stir morality, I just felt kind of empty, though I supposed emptiness was better than satisfaction - I didn't get a mad thrill off murdering people, I just fought to survive. Though after seeing the state of some dead bodies I knew that I didn't like gore, I even treaded through the grass carefully so I could avoid the sticky vermillion blood that was splashed across the ground.

"Who got the young one?" Astrid said as she observed the thirteen year old girl who had her tongue ripped out - it lay uselessly in a puddle of warm blood that still dribbled out of the innocent girl's lips. "Whoever did that got her pretty bad, I didn't do it and it was done by knife so it isn't Luster."

I hated the way Astrid talked of me as if I was an irritating, omnipresent entity. Archimedes glanced at Astrid and frowned. "I didn't kill her... Did you Melanthe?"

"I don't kill kids," came Melanthe's somewhat indifferent reply.

"Must've been Blaine."

"Talking about Blaine, looks like the big boy, the 'destined victor' is dead," Astrid sniggered as she walked past Blaine, observing the chunk of his back that had been hacked away by an axe. She had always gotten on with Blaine, but seeing as she found his death funny their relationship must've been somewhat shallow. Astrid glanced up and looked at Archimedes. "Who got him then? Whoever did is obviously quite the threat-"

"Not anymore," I spoke out, startling my allies. I liked to be a person of very few words; that way my strengths and weaknesses were camouflaged better, and I had never been good with human emotions in the first place. "It was the boy from Seven, the dead one in front of him - I shot him." I remembered seeing the boy from Seven mercilessly smash his axe into my ally's back. I never really spoke to Blaine, but a spark of anger I couldn't quite point out prompted me to pelt the arrows into the boy from District Seven.

Astrid pulled the arrows out of the dead boy, reluctantly talking to me civilly. "A couple of good shots there - I assume you want the arrows back?"

"Yeah."

Astrid stood and sauntered over to me. I couldn't help but notice that Archimedes glanced upon one of the corpses, with a hint of sadness - no, not sadness, more sympathy than anything. He shoved the fragile girl back into the position he had found her lying in before sighing solemnly.

"Naomi's dead," he said.

Astrid and Melanthe both reacted instantaneously, though their emotions came together with a juxtaposing effect; Astrid seemed angry, as if a valuable possession had been taken away from her. Melanthe ran over to the peaceful corpse with teary eyes, choking on her own words as if she couldn't quite believe what Archimedes had said.

"She... She can't be dead," Melanthe said, looking at her still friend. She refused to cry, she only looked into the sky apprehensively.

"I know!" Astrid agreed. "I wanted to kill her!"

"Shut it," Melanthe growled.

"So the Three boy is dead, as is the Nine girl and the Seven boy - Blaine and Naomi are both dead... Wow, District Four is disappointed." He smirked and poured another picnic basket's contents into a backpack. "The District Five boy is dead, but you won't find his body... He's in bits."

Archimedes smirked at his joke and then the conversation dissolved into nothingness. There was an intense silence as we all gathered our supplies and weapons collectively, and gathered the bodies to throw into a big pile too - that way the Gamemakers could get them more easily. I had the lovely job of collecting the bits of the Five boy's body so that the Gamemakers could reassemble him into what could look somewhat humanistic.

"Okay, hunting time!" Archimedes smiled once the bodies had levitated into the sky and gone forever... They would be shipped back to their Districts in a coffin, where their simple funerals would be held. After the eventful bloodbath no-one wanted to hunt - Astrid groaned, Melanthe looked sulky and though I voiced no disagreement the thought of venturing into the forest didn't fill me with euphoria. It was ironic that most battered of us all, Archie, whose face had been bruised from explosions and other things, was the enthusiastic one. Or maybe he was just being tactical.

"Do we have to hunt?" Melanthe grumbled.

"I am tired..." Astrid contemplated, but she packed up her knives carefully with a malicious little smirk. "But hopefully Micah will be out there, I want to kill him."

"Why him?" I couldn't help but ask.

"None of your business soft touch."

"Well you three can hunt and I'll take guard," Melanthe suggested hopefully, moving over to the myriad of supplies we had put in the centre. "If we stay at the Cornucopia and just leave supplies tributes could steal them right? I think a pair of tributes should hunt, and another pair guard. I'm not good with the whole killing rubbish so I'll stay here with you Archie and the Ones can hunt – they want to hunt."

I was a bit offended; I didn't want to hunt, but I looked at an impressed Archimedes anyway. From his expression I could tell he hadn't thought about guarding supplies – that was the problem with geniuses, master tacticians, innovative artists and renowned scientists thought of complex things so much they had always forgotten the tiny, yet significant, details. Archimedes glanced at us Careers in turn before grinning.

"Melanthe and Luster will do the hunting," he said, ignoring Melanthe's glare. "Melanthe you didn't kill in the Bloodbath – now I know you're not an innocent idiot, but at the same time you need to get used to the killing thing if you want to survive."

"She won't survive, she's in the Games with me," Astrid laughed as she picked up her knives. She paused and looked at Archimedes, who gave her the most horrible distrustful look. I wasn't really good at dissecting human emotions, but anybody could see that Archimedes did not trust the girl in front of him. "And I'm not hunting?"

Archimedes shrugged coolly. "No."

There was a flash of enmity in Astrid's eyes, but she did the wiser thing and slumped down on the grass, looking up at the clouds that were bright as they had soaked up the afternoon sun. I took a look at them myself as I picked up my crossbow – they were certainly getting more turbulent and restless. I made sure to bring a good supply of food and a waterproof jacket to aid me during the hunt.

Hopefully I'd see Tarren, the shy girl from District Eight who I felt a magnetic bond with. Maybe I was being biased – I read in her tribute guide that she had Aspergers syndrome, a kind of mild autism, just like me. Though seeing her curl up into a ball in the middle of a battle field told me that her condition was extreme, unlike me. I had spared her life in the Bloodbath, but was I ready to let her go again? I honestly didn't know. There was something about that girl that struck a chord in me.

"Ready?" Melanthe asked me, sword in one hand and supplies in another.

"Yeah, of course."

* * *

**Ruth Pierce, Deputy Head Gamemaker:**

"I cannot believe it," Tobias sighed, digging his left hand into his hair with stress as he tore the dead tributes' profiles from his office wall. I watched him with intent eyes, watching as District Four and many other beloved tributes were just torn away. The Bloodbath was pretty good, I'm sure The President loved it, but a perfectionist Tobias still wasn't satisfied. "District Four dead – when do District Four, a Career District, ever go down in the Bloodbath? Blaine got the highest score and sponsor base, Karble had the second bigger sponsor base and he's dead, Sperren had so much potential, as did Elise and it's going to be a lot of hard work to stitch Callis' dead body back together!"

"Why are you angry?"

"We lost interesting tributes!" Tobias cried, almost ripping off Avalynn's tribute profile as he lashed his hand across Callis', clawing it off the wall and throwing it into the bin. I supposed that the tributes in the arena were like pieces of paper that could just be disposed of anymore. I didn't want to question this countries' morality anymore – I had discovered just how corrupt it was last year, but I decided to put that behind me. Wasn't every country corrupt in one way or another?

"Aren't all the tributes interesting," I reasoned. "Aren't all people interesting, with their quirks and their stories and strange skills – and flaws, a person'a flaws always highlight them. Why are you so scrupulous anyway? This isn't a matter of life and death you know."

"You don't know that," Tobias told me darkly.

I laughed, albeit frigidly. "So what is the secret twist President Nystalgia gave you?"

"I'm not allowed to say," Tobias said, casually grappling for the mouse on his computer. "But I have some great news, it looks like Jynx won't be bothering us for some time!"

"Is that related to the twist or the e-mail you're reading?"

"Hmm? None of your business Ruth."

I had a feeling that whatever the President was doing he was going to make things very difficult for the tributes. Last year's Hunger Games had been hectic and wild, the most exciting in years (disregarding the eighth Quell, of course). The President was bored of the same old Hunger Games rolling by – he wanted more drama, more action, and more death. That way he felt inclined to throw in his own twists, seeing as the next Quarter Quell was a whole twenty-two years away.

Moving out to Tobias' coffee machine I pressed a polystyrene cup underneath the dispenses and I casually slammed my finger into the button, watching as a jet of creamy hot chocolate filled the cup slowly. There were so many questions I had to ask Tobias, but he was being very secretive and particular today.

Tobias surprised me by asking me a question. "Why is he doing it Ruth?"

"Doing what?" I asked casually.

"Sending Rayann back into the arena..."

"It's obvious, isn't it," I felt my thin lips instinctively pucker in disgust.

"He wants rid of her? Why doesn't he just execute her?"

I burst out into harsh laughter. "Doesn't it all make sense to you Tobias? No? The Capitol – and the President – love glamour and glitz. To simply shoot Rayann would be boring, and before you say it is untactful think of this... The Capitol citizens that are keen followers of The President and all of the conformists will believe the story. Who are the skeptics? One who is a skeptic is usually one who is a non conformer, or a rebel. They'll see this scheme for what is it and it's going to terrify them, because it tells them that Nystalgia really is ruthless and that he can do anything."

"But isn't that wrong?" Tobias still looked slightly confused.

I sighed exasperatedly and opened one of the Games' files, quickly reading up on some arena co-ordinates so I could return to work and sort out some glitches. "Of course it's wrong Tobias, but everything is wrong, the Hunger Games is just a comfortable extreme. Is dictatorship wrong? Of course it is, but we're used to it now. Is this stupid quasi-monarchy The President has set up wrong? Undoubtedly. It's all wrong but it's part of the grand, irreversible extreme. Just accept it."

"Yeah, I'm being silly," Tobias laughed as he shut off his computer. "Politics in general is wrong, isn't it? But exists. It's universally accepted. We should just forget about why the President wants us to kill Rayann and just kill her."

"Of course," I agreed vehemently. "How is Rayann anyway?"

"She's fine, we've had to force feed her all sorts of hormones to give her strength back," Tobias said, tidying up a mountain of messy, creased paper before walking out of the room. I swiftly followed behind, listening attentively to every word that he had to say. "And we have to heal those nasty burns The President gave her too, of course. By Day Four she'll be as good as new and we'll be able to throw her, her mother and her friend Layla into there."

"Interesting..." I sighed. "How're you going to get her in there?"

"We're just parachuting her in," Tobias sighed. "Anyway, night is approaching, there will be a full moon in the arena and the place is going to be very creepy... What do we do?"

"Send in some mutts?" I shrugged.

"We have a few mutts in there anyway," Tobias shrugged. "Only minor, irritating ones anyway – the real nasties won't be in until the final fifteen. But I say we give some of the tributes a creepy time, what do you say?"

"I agree, Tobias, I agree," Tobias and I both hated the killing part of being the most important Gamemakers, but designing an arena, designing the unique mutts and traps to accompany it and watching a tribute's psychology change with the atmosphere around them was always fascinating. Tobias had a doctorate in psychology, so he always seemed to know which tributes were going to kill, which ones were going to succumb into insanity and what tributes were thinking during dangerous situations. He had pointed out Elise's schizophrenia the moment she had been reaped, and he was right. I wondered what he thought of the other tributes-

Whatever he thought, it was bound to be interesting.

* * *

**Vigil Hatzardys, District 12, 18:**

"I cannot believe you Vigil..." Helen looked as if she didn't know whether to laugh or not as she strolled down a nice, clean pathway that had been laid down for us. The twisted trees around us all seemed stiff and still, even for trees. Since we were walking on a pathway which was free from them we could see the setting sun in the distance; a dying orb that cast out waves of ruby and gold. "I just still can't believe it... Out of all the ways to save somebody's life you just had to use a lamppost for it, didn't you?"

"Well... You know, you never underestimate the power of the screwdriver," I casually flung the screwdriver into the air, watching as it spun sharply before descending into my palm. Unfortunately it was our only supply – whilst the screwdriver had saved our life once I knew it wasn't the best weapon. "Are you hungry?"

"Famished," Helen smiled as we walked down the endless path. The gravel pathway at our feet must have lead us to some useful destination. I was kind of glad we had found this pathway, as there was something sinister about the forest I disliked; maybe there was something about the density of the trees, or the crookedness of them, or the disturbing network of roots that snaked out and covered the solid ground.

"Lets play I spy," I suggested.

"Okay..." Helen started off. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with T-"

"It isn't tree by any chance?"

"Well... Yeah."

"My turn..." I grinned, squinting as I saw the remnants of the fiery sunset sink into the horizon. Ha! As if Helen would notice something so subtle as it. "Ok get this – I spy with my little eye something beginning with S-"

"Sky!"

"No."

"Screwdriver!"

"No, but that's a good suggestion."

"Sunset!"

"Yeah, sunset," I grumbled, fidgeting with the screwdriver in my palm instinctively. I still thought back to the horrific bloodbath – I hadn't seen anyone die, but there had been six cannons. Six children had died, and if I hadn't of acted Helen would've been the seventh to die. My heart paused and I glanced at her smiling face, much different to the terrified one I had seen fighting for dear life. There was something about Helen I'd always like, though I could never truly put my finger on it. "Ok... I guess it's your turn."

"I spy with my little eye," Helen squinted as her dull eyes flickered around the area, resting on something and immediately brightening in the cracks of sunset that sprang from the leaves. "Something beginning with S!"

"Can't be sunset," I said, not bothering to look at the predictable area around me. "Is it the screwdriver or sky?"

"No."

"I dunno..." I shrugged and looked at the trees, hoping to see a certain furry mammal there. "Is it a squirrel by any chance?"

Helen smiled and started running (slowly, of course) whilst giggling. "Nope, but there's a sign post!"

I peered to the direction Helen was pointing and to my surprise there really was a sign post. I couldn't help but laugh and follow her – though I wasn't a runner I had caught up to the slower girl from Ten quickly, and we both came to an abrupt halt when we stopped in front of the wooden sign post. There were arrows pointing in numerous directions to where the adjoining paths separated, multiplying into many more dirt paths. Engraved into each arrow was a different place – 'tennis court' one arrow read, another said 'fishing pond,' and the third one said 'lovers lane.'

"I've always wanted to play tennis," I remarked.

"It probably has arrows instead of tennis balls coming out of the dispensers," Helen shivered. "I hate water and I hate lovers lanes – but Vigil, we need to get off of this pathway."

"Why?"

"Can't you see? It's a 'public' pathway – meaning that tributes will most probably be using it, not to mention it seems like the easiest way to navigate around the arena," Helen said. I looked tentatively at the beautiful but grim forest before following Helen into it. "I think it's best we go somewhere without directions - we're more spontaneous and hard to find that way. Until we find some way to fight back it's best to fight, right? I don't think a screwdriver would help us..."

We continued talking for a while and walking through the forest. Our biggest threats were the Careers, and their hunt would start soon – but for now it was safe to assume they were a fair distance away and there'd be no major traps or mutts yet. Helen was as garrulous as I had ever seen her –

I think she was reserved, and that she didn't trust me until I had saved her life, but the new her was full of a refeshing candour I appreciated.

"I don't really talk to my mother," Helen said gingerly as we talked about our families. "She divorced my dad when she was younger – she came from a rich family, whereas he was poor. His income just didn't satisfy her."

"I'm sure she still loves you," I said, stepping over thick roots and trying to maintain my balance.

"You think so?" Helen chuckled. "She said goodbye when I went to the justice building... But words don't mean anything in this day and age, do they?"

I shrugged. "I'm sure she's missing out."

On cue I stumbled out of the forest and into a field where the trees seemed much less bend, they were thinner too. Unlike the trees in the forest there was distance between each tree, and they possessed fruit – apples! Helen's grin was as wide as mine; as long as we were here with these apples we couldn't go hungry!

"We're in an apple orchard!" Helen said, not quite believing her luck as she saw the many baskets designed for containing fruit lying around. Whatever this apple orchard was, it gave the impression that it had been abandoned, though I doubted it had ever been used before.

I simply had to shake the tree's lower branches lightly in order to get the response I wanted – a flock of apples all falling down. Helen clumsily held out the collecting basket so that apples could descend into the wicker material and be contained. There was the occasional comic moment when an apple bounced off Helen's head and made her wince, but other than that we had no problems.

"Why won't you tell me about the accident you had?" Helen asked as we feasted on the fruit. Her jagged teeth sank into the thin, red flesh of the apple as she continued talking. "I mean... The one that gave you the scar."

"Some things are best kept secret," I said – maybe it was the fact I had consumed five apples, but I was suddenly full, and eating just didn't appeal to me. I closed my eyes and vividly remembered my mining cart screeching out of control and ramming into the cart holding an innocent family. I still saw a little girl's face widen in shock before she disappeared completely underneath the cart, and then there was a incomprehensible pain, mixed with the stench of blood and burning soot.

"Anyway, I'm going to check the orchard for other bits of fruit," Helen said after throwing the core of an apple into the fresh grass. She smiled at me warmly, not noticing the depression and apprehension in my eyes. She paused, glanced at me, and spoke softly. "Vigil do you mind if I have the screwdriver? Just in case..."

"Go ahead," I said emptily.

And then she disappeared off behind a couple of apple trees, just like that. I slumped back onto the grass, drowned in the warm light being radiated from the setting sun whilst the birds happily sang beautiful melodies to each other. The first night would be the easiest night – there'd be little to attack Helen and I, we could almost sleep without fearing for our lives. But then the ending of the day cast a sudden coldness that flashed in my flesh, so that prominent goosebumps flashed ip my arms underneath my grey sleeves. I leant up slightly, noticing that the day was fading, the sun had almost dissolved into nothing in about five minutes. Maybe I was sleeping for an hour –

"Helen!" I called out. "Helen, where are you?"

A cold hand clasped onto my shoulder, and I instinctively turned around to smile at my beckoned ally – but I released a blood curdling howl as I saw a different face. She was prettier than Helen, with thin whisps of blonde hair and startling blue eyes, yet she was much uglier; her flesh was in a state of decomposition, the girl was a dead body that had been suspended from a tree! I crawled back desperately when I recognised the girl. She was the one who I had killed in the mining accident! But she was alive now, or an animated dead body that was strung off a noose.

"Hello Vigil," she wheezed, grinning malevolently as she was suspended off the tree, swinging to and fro with her blue eyes fixed upon me inquisitively.

"Begone!" I shouted. "Go away!"

"Wanna play?" The dead body grinned again so widely her face split in two, revealing a mouth that was so wide it could devour a human with ease and fleshy, toothless gums that had blood leaking from them. I cried out again as the once innocent girl snagged the air with her rotting hand in an attempt to grab me, though the noose that restrained her limited her reach and she couldn't quite grasp me. That didn't make her any less intimidating, and I cried out for Helen again before throwing myself into the grass.

"Go away!" I cried at the creature. "Please leave!"

"Vigil?" A softer yet more lively voice spoke to me, concerned. I looked into Helen's dark eyes and then at the spot where the dead girl's swinging body was, though there was nothing but chilling air where her body had been. I returned my glance at Helen, who smiled weakly with a basket filled to the brim with a delicious pink fruit that I hadn't seen in District Twelve before. "Is everything okay?"

"Just a nightmare," I lied.

"Okay," Helen smiled calmly. "Well you wouldn't believe what I've found – a raspberry bush!"

* * *

**I've joined the cool kids and I'm putting up a quote per chapter; that, and the title, will give you some nice clues to the chapter's content.**

**Apologies for the late update – I went on a quick, needed holiday.**

**I'm sorry if this chapter was slow, it's going to end up being simple character development, conversations and occasionally a tribute will bump into a little nasty. No-ones going to be in any danger until day two :)**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: What live tribute would you say is the most likely to end their own life?_

Interview Question: Now I'm venturing into the world of debating, which is dangerous for – as an 'interviewer' I'll stay neutral, but I do have an opinion on this – is suicide being illegal stupid/pointless?


	20. The Moonlight

Day One, Night:

_"In time we hate what we often fear."_

_— William Shakespeare_

* * *

**Micah Miraude, District 8, 17:**

There was a chilly air that constantly swept through the arena now – it was inescapable, and its icy grip had sent goosebumps all over my body. Reed and I eventually (after at least six miles of walking) exited the large, creepy patch of forest and ventured into a field. The once green grass seemed black in the light of the silvery moon, which hung in its full form in the inky sky. It seemed like a creepy, silvery eye that was constantly peering at us.

"Where are we?" I asked Reed.

"A picnic area," Reed answered, pointing at a sign which exclaimed that this field was indeed a picnic area. The scenery did seem picnicky; the lush fields were complimented with old chequered picnic blankets that were left in the desolated field. Underneath glowing lampposts were picnic tables that seemed welcoming. My joints and the injury in my elbow had been throbbing after a never ending walk.

"Reed..." I felt the back of my neck burn. I was usually good with women, I could charm them with ease, but Reed was haughty with a lot of pride to boost. "Can we... Er, sit down?"

"Why?" Reed rolled her eyes. "Does your boo-boo hurt?"

"Hm? No!" I lied as another sharp pain shot down my elbow. "No, of course not... I'm just a bit achey... I've walked a lot."

"Quit your whining," Reed snapped morosely. "It's the Hunger Games. You should be happy you're aching – you do know how much worse you could be? A wound in your elbow is nothing, I mean you could've been impaled, or missing a limb or something equally as disgusting. Whilst we're in the Games and we're relatively uninjured we have no right to complain!"

"Is that true?" I felt my patience begin to dissolve. "We have no right to complain because we're okay now? What about our inevitable demise – I can't complain about that? I don't know about you darling, but I didn't choose to be here."

Reed paused as we trekked across the field, biting her lip hesitantly. "No... I didn't mean it like that."

"Lets just forget it."

"We can just eat dinner," Reed suggested hopefully. "We haven't ate today and we need to eat if we want our strength, right?"

Anger made me desire disagreement, just for the sake of annoying Reed, but I decided against it – I had a quick Capitolian breakfast this morning, but I hadn't ate for at least fifteen hours, and my stomach was slowly eating away at itself inside of me. Just on cue the organ in question seemed to groan and complain, so I looked up and grinned at Reed sheepishly. "You know what, a dinner would be nice."

Reed smiled back, thinking she was forgiven as we walked to the nearest picnic table. As we did Reed slammed down our basket which was laden with supplies; the girl from Twelve bit her lip as she carefully removed the food from the basket. Two sandwiches and an apple – she glanced at me seriously as she slid across a sandwich and an apple.

"What? A sandwich and an apple for dinner?" I frowned.

"We're allowed a little bit of water," Reed laughed bitterly. "You think we have scheduled meals in this place?"

"Not exactly," I admitted, taking a bite of the sandwich and savouring the sweet taste of strawberry jam that spread through my mouth. "I just kind of expected we'd have more to eat on the first night, that's all."

"What are you suggesting?" Reed looked affronted and angry. "We have plenty of food! We just need to ration it sensibly – do you just want to eat all of our supplies away? Would you rather be a little hungry now or starving to death later? For goodness sake Micah, get used to being hungry. This is called the Hunger Games for a bloody reason."

"Can you stop being so snappy?" I frowned, taking a furious bite out of my sandwich.

"You're the snappy one, you're usually joking and now you're just being miserable-"

"Who wouldn't be miserable with you around?"

The comment came out of my mouth before I could stop it, making Reed freeze before she could bite into her apple. I tried to avoid looking into her blue eyes, though it was hard to not feel them jab into me – my comment had really peeved a girl who was already rather peevish. I cast Reed one last glance as she looked at the floor, biting into her sandwich with pained eyes – any other girl would've cried, but not Reed.

"I'm sorry," I said penitently. When the vexed girl didn't reply I sighed and finished off the measly jam sandwich, which did nothing to ward off my hunger. "I need a smoke."

Reed's eyes widened. "You smoke?"

"When I'm stressed," I shrugged. "Why?"

"I just find it a little stupid – I mean why smoke in Panem? All it does is kill you slowly from the inside. Why would someone in Panem try to kill themselves with smoke after spending a lifetime struggling to survive?"

"I always thought dying young was kind of cool," I admitted. "I mean I didn't want this to happen, but I don't want to end up as a stupid old man either."

"I guess we're all hardwired to survive," Reed said.

"Do you even drink, or relax in any way?"

There was a sharp chuckle from Reed. "I had one too many drinks at a friend's party and the next morning kind of put me off... I can play the guitar. I guess I like music – that's a good way to chill out."

"I don't know much about music," I said, thinking of all of the songs I had heard in my life; most of them were made by composers in the Capitol who worshipped the President, declaring him to be a living, breathing god. There wasn't music about anything else, songs about freedom, love, life or ones with political critique were erased from the world and rebellious composers were annihilated. "I think songs, books, movies and everything are heavily censored in District Eight, but I'm not totally sure."

"Oh, same here," Reed sighed. "My father taught me a few folk songs... Well, I'd sing them to you but it's better with a guitar... And I don't like audiences."

"I'm hardly an audience."

"The millions watching the television are," Reed automatically bit her bottom lip nervously. "I don't like thinking about the people who are watching my every move and judging me... It kind of unnerves me–"

"I guess I know what you mean but there's nothing quite as fun as acting for your audience," I smirked. "Chances are I'm going to die soon... So I might as well ignore the Capitolian audience frowning at me for picking my nose or scratching my itchy-"

"Seriously Micah," Reed laughed and removed a sandwich. "Talk about TMI."

Smirking, I took a last bite of my sandwich and hopped onto the picnic table, improvising a song with my not-so-perfect singing voice. The out of tune noise seemed to strip the trees of quiet birds, who flocked away from the area. It was a perfect night for singing; there was a glowing full moon which reflected the star encrusted sky. "You know what Reed – you need to live a little, we're all alone and we need to have all the fun in the-"

A branch snapped in the distance. My ears told me it had happened on the outskirts of the picnic field, and a giggling Reed and I were silent, our voices muffled with alarm. I slowly turned around to face whatever was lurking in the bushes as a weary Reed removed the knives we had in the picnic basket, passing one to me for good measure. The tension began to manifest as the bushes rattled, and an anticlimatic rabbit peered out of the bushes, wriggling its nose and observing us innocently.

"A rabbit," Reed breathed out with relief and slumped back into her seat, but my roaring stomach told me to do otherwise.

"You can throw knives," I said to her. "Why don't you kill it? It looks tasty."

Reed gasped. "How can you suggest that?"

"How? I'm hungry, that's how."

Reed quivered slightly whilst looking at the rabbit, which innocently nibbled the lines of grass closest to it. "It goes against my morals, Micah. I don't eat meat, never mind kill for it... I mean I'm preparing to kill people because I have to, but that rabbit has a whole life ahead of it – it can feel, and it has emotions and a massive rabbit family–"

"It's an animal," I hissed with gritted teeth. "It can't feel."

"How do you know that?"

"Fine, I'll eat the meat then," I stepped forward and raised my arm, prepared to lunge my knife into the unknowing rabbit. "How can you expect to survive if you won't even kill a rabbit? To survive you need to learn to hunt, right? Can you seriously recall a vegetarian victor?"

"Heather Oatma from District Eleven, winner of the one hundredth and ninety eighth Games," Reed said matter of factly, looking nervously as I prepared to launch the knife. I didn't bother to mention that Heather starved to death in the victor Games three years after her first. I prepared to throw, but Reed lunged across the table, pinning my hand down desperately before the rabbit was pierced by my blade.

"No!" She snarled as I struggled. "Micah – don't... Kill... That..."

And it was too late. I threw myself away from her grip and lashed the knife. It soared across the light air like a furious projectile, before it finally met its place in the rabbits side. The rabbit squealed out in pain and slumped to the ground, its crimson blood leaking onto the green grass it had been eating seconds ago. Reed cried out, anguished, and then leapt across me, making a beeline for the lame, dying rabbit.

"Micah!" She howled, kneeling down by the injured rabbit and rocking it in her arms as its blood spilt onto her grey blouse. She didn't dare take the knife out, she just looked hopelessly into the rabbit's beady eyes as it slowly ceased to live. "How could you do that?" She stroked the rabbit behind the ear before it drooped down and died completely, its eyes glancing vaguely into the sky as a mournful silence hit the air, only being broken by chirping crickets. "Why the hell did you kill it when I told you not to?"

I looked into Reed's greyish green eyes while she glared at me. "I-I was hungry."

"How selfish can you be?"

After Reed's words the rabbit's eyes seemed to fill with life again, as if it had been reactivated. My ally was unaware of the small mammal springing to life, and dangerously missing the red, fluorescent eyes the creature had suddenly adopted. I cried out and a startled Reed managed to swat away the reawakened creature, that gnashed at her in a desperate attempt to maul her. She desperately grabbed her dropped knife and swung it into the throat of the mutt as it leapt at her, hacking the thing – which was obviously a mutt – right in the larynx, watching as it died for a second time. She stood up shakily and wearily kicked the rabbit, turning to me with a weak smile when it had gone for good.

"Can we cook it now?" I asked.

"You can eat it," Reed said vulnerably, slumping down and sighing as she eyed the moon. "Just do anything to rid it completely, please."

* * *

**Petunia Hines, District 11, 16:**

The sky seemed indecisive, I decided as I glanced at the map of sky far above my head; the one constant thing it had was the ominous full moon, but other than that things seemed to come and go – at some times the sky was abundant with stars, all sprinkled across the sky serenely, twinkling down at the earth below. At other times the stars had dissapeared, and the only being that accompanied the vast, empty black sky was the woeful moon that cast down bright, eerie beams.

These beams darted through the leaves of the trees, providing the only light in the forest. Because of the limited light I could only spot a few things; numerous roots that snaked across the ground and the silhouette of some crooked trees and their once green leaves, that now seemed withered and dead. In the afternoon this arena seemed so joyful and liberating, but now it just seemed like an ominous, dark cage.

Not that I ever thought the arena was as pretty as it had appeared in the morning. I remembered how the Bloodbath tainted the pristine image of the Cornucopia field – Verdant green grass had immediately turned into ruby red blood. I didn't stay around the Bloodbath for long, but I was there quick enough to see a couple of children be mercilessly slaughtered by the Careers. That was why I just ran away, I knew staying would be suicide. Though my agitated stomach reminded me that it would've been better if I did stay to get some supplies like Violet did. I hoped Violet was still alive and out there somewhere, so that I could meet up with her. If she was dead would it be my fault? No. I shook away such a dark thought – it wouldn't be anyone's fault but her killer's.

I tried to convince myself she was alive, although that was hopeless thinking; Violet wasn't one of the stronger tributes, she'd easily be one of the six dead.

Annoyed with the low lighting, my growing hunger and the morbid thoughts swirling through my head I clung onto the nearest tree I could find, though it was shrouded by the creeping shadows. When my hands found some holds I managed to hoist myself up and scuttle up the tree – I was a good climber, though not by nature like some of the District Eleven workers, seeing as I was from a rich family, but I had friends who could climb excellently and it passed onto me. I quickly scurried up the tree, my moving limbs similar to that of an ant. As soon as I had reached the top my hands automatically snagged away juicy berries that had clothed the trees – I had always been good at living of the land, so that could replenish my hunger.

I peered at the other trees. Now that the dense branches and thick bushes were below my feet the strangely bright moon had easily lit up the tree tops, which was like a green sea stretched around me. I used the light to check the berries in my palm, which were safe to eat (though I had expected that – the Gamemakers didn't throw in deadly food or water at the beginning of the Games). I hastily popped the bunch into my mouth and launched myself forwards, hopping from branch to branch quickly, and pausing when I spotted something strange.

Just like the way the moonlight from above was filtered by the canopy above, this new, golden light was dim and filtered by the canopy which was now below my feet. Curiosity taking the better of me, I clung onto the branch below me and dropped down, hanging off the branch before finding some cavities within the tree trunk and scuttling down it quickly, landing in another field. This field was smaller than the one around the Cornucopia; a tenth of that field's height, at biggest. Apart from long grass that that rested around my thighs, there seemed to be nothing except the small wooden house resting in the centre of this small field.

That house seemed to be the light source I had spotted – it had four windows, and one of the downstairs ones had been lit. A house would be nice to stay in; it had food, light and shelter to protect me from the elements, but the turned on light raised my inner worry and told me that a tribute was lurking around in there. Holding my breath and being lead by courage or idiocy, I sped forwards to the door and turned the old brass handle.

There was a groan as the door opened so that I could peer into the dark, musky corridor. I held my breath and shuffled in wearily, peering at two doors that were parallel from each other – one lead into a lit room, and the other one into a darker room. Taking my chances and gambling with luck I forced myself into the lit room.

It was simple; chaste, beige wallpaper and a cold, wooden floor. There wasn't anything noticeable in the lightened room, but it seemed to of been abandoned long ago, and mercifully empty. The light came pouring out of a light that swung stiffly from the ceiling, there was also an unlit fireplace. A large grand piano was forced in the corner, coated with a light film of dust, and in the other corner was a desk.

Piano was an instrument I could never play, so I leapt for the desk automatically, landing on the chair that accompanied it and laughing as it span. My father had always had chairs that I could spin when I was younger, and I could spend so much of my time twirling around in them until I felt ill. The desk seemed messy with trivial piles of papers and documents, a nameplate brandishing the carved words 'Warden' (which gave away whom this house fictionally belonged to) and a telephone.

My heart froze and I picked up the receiver of the telephone and pressed it against my ears, ignoring the coldness that pressed against my ear and the dead, beeping telephone line. My father had installed a telephone for our household, a rare thing for a District Eleven family to have – many people circled our house at that time, like ravenous vultures who felt privileged to bask in the marvel of an advanced communication device. My fingertips tapped in the buttons in a vain attempt to dial the number to my family's house, though the line was as dead as ever.

Feeling disheartened I investigated the other rooms – none picked my interest quite as much as the first room did. The opposite room was a kitchen full of cupboards stuffed with food (which instantly killed the worried I had of starving to death), an oven and a stove, a kettle filled with dirty water and a fridge which contained nothing but mould.

The upstairs room were no more interesting; there was a bathroom with a grimy toilet and bathtub, all marred with limescale. There was also a room that was supposed to be a bedroom. My feet pressed themselves onto a dull pink carpet as I scoured the place, trying to find something interesting, but there was only miscellaneous accessories – a cracked, dusty mirror. A bookshelf that contained no volumes or novels, only littering spider webs. A dressing table stained with faint lipstick.

And then a towering, rosewood wardrobe took my eye – It seemed enigmatic and attention grabbing, so I inquisitively grasped the handle to the closet and pulled the doors open, shrieking and leaping aside as I was ambushed by a falling bed. Grumbling and pulling myself to my feet I assured myself that the bed would make a comfy sleeping place, though it seemed springy and uncomfortable.

There were also French doors that lead out into a balcony, but after opening them and stepping out into the cold night air I quickly discovered that the balcony wasn't interesting in the slightest, it was just empty space. Though the night sky (which had currently decided to be ridden of stars) gave me time to think about my family, who I'd grown to miss, I wished Violet would find me, I wished I wasn't in the stupid Hunger Games despite how lucky I had been to find this small house.

My thoughts were interrupted by Panem's anthem, which erupted around the arena and sent chills down my spine. It was time to see who had died, and time to recall which competitors I never had to worry about again – the faces of the people I saw in the sky would be the faces of dead children, though I had to be more apathetic and think of them as the Games' losers. I could only hope my face wouldn't appear in that same, lonely sky any time soon.

* * *

**Broson Gray, District 11, 17:**

The first face in the sky was that of the boy from District Three. Seeing him fill the empty sky immediately pissed me off, seeing as both the One and Two tributes were alive – that would only be expected though. The District Three boy meant nothing to me, but it was weird that the once talkative boy was now dead and gone, and his impeccable charisma had snagged him so many sponsors. I wonder where they had emigrated to.

The District Four boy was a bit more shocking. His handsome face shimmered with the stars, almost making me splutter when I saw him. He was easily the best competitor in the Games, and now he was just dead – there was a tempting urge that took over me, I just wanted to cheer, but I realised that there were still some strong competitors out there. It would be foolish to think otherwise.

The Four boy's face was followed by Naomi's, whose innocent features were curved into an ironic smile as her dead face took its place in the night sky. Strange thing to note, but I couldn't help but note that the otherwise mediocre girl had beautiful eyes; wide, azure and eager. They'd be closed now, with all the zeal in them as dead as the girl herself.

The Five boy was the fourth face in the sky. I didn't know much about him, other than his impressive build he was quite forgettable – the ones that would fade in the background and be erased forever, in life and mind, were always the saddest deaths. At least the ones with sob stories had a minute amount of sympathy, even if it was meaningless.

The District Seven boy's scarred face then glared down at me, as solemn and grim as ever. That death was a bit of a shocker – Sperren (I think that was his name) was an underdog, maybe even a winner. It was strange to think that he was an average guy, just like me – he was even around my age. Now all he was was a dead boy from District Seven, a new insignificance for the Capitol to bear.

The last face of the night was the girl from District Nine – even her fresh face made me, an otherwise heartless guy, wince slightly. She was the youngest tribute in this Games, only the fragile age of thirteen. It was always controversial when tributes like her kicked the bucket. Although, as macabre as it was, I was glad someone ridded her so I didn't have to do it myself.

The closing anthem played and then the faces of the dead dissipated into air, becoming nothingness once more. I thought back to my fight with the Careers – I could've been the seventh dead, another unlucky tribute. The stabs and slashes around my chest and stomach reminded me of that, still paining and encumbering me. I stood up shakily and tried to shake off my wounds, but they were still painful – some in a sharp way, others in a slow, dull pain.

Staying behind and gathering my supplies made it worth it, though. I had stuffed numerous survival things into a large rucksack. I doubted any other tributes had piles of food, numerous bottles of water, weapons, armour and the occasional advanced weapon or survival equipment. The only downside to my personal myriad of supplies was the heavy weight that accompanied it.

With a sigh I hurriedly trudged through the forest, trying to fight through the heavy weight whilst cautiously watching my footing and ensuring I didn't stumble over any roots. The roots unnerved me; they were always still and statuesque, but they always seemed to change and transmogrify from the corner of my eyes – maybe my peripheral vision was toying with me, but those roots seemed to shrink and recede, and then grow and fluctuate when my back was turned.

As I pondered this I seemed to escape the sturdy roots and stumble onto a path that was empty of roots, free of trees and a different area than the forest altogether; yet this gravelly pathway was adjoined with the vast forests that stretched out on both sides of it. It was a guide, an artificial ravine. I wearily secured my backpack before marching on, blissfully unaware of what lay ahead of me.

And I quickly found them, they were there after about half a mile of me walking the winding, public pathway that separated the 'park' (which at night seemed more like a spooky forest). The girls were both short; one wiry, whereas one seemed more stocky, of a masculine build at best description, and she looked rather uncharacteristic when draped in a blouse. The other girl who was slightly smaller had a prettier face, though it was glared at me in solid determination.

"What do you want?" She asked tartly.

What did I want? I had a mace to kill them, though this early on in the Games killing seemed unfathomable... Though whether on the first or the hundredth day, murder was something that had to be done in the Hunger Games. As I thought that my hand caressed the shaft of my mace slowly. I had always wanted an ally – someone to talk to and share with.

"I want an ally."

The well built girl with the haggard face looked at her more wiry contemporary with a raised brow. It seemed as if she were indifferent, or that decisions weren't even made by her – it was easy to tell who the brains and brawn of the alliance were. My tremulous hands released themselves from my mace, and I stepped forward and glanced at the girls pleadingly.

"No."

"What District are you from?"

"I'm from Three, and this girl is from Six," the Three girl told me, still glaring at me with her blue eyes that seemed like an eerie grey in the vivid moonlight.

"You do the talking, don't you?" I glanced at the Six girl before remembering the sign language interpreter who followed her onto the interview stage. It all made sense – she was a mute.

"That's because my ally can't talk," the irony prompted an immature laugh on my behalf. The Six girl immediately tensed and prepared for fighting, but the Three girl was as calm and indifferent as ever. She spoke clearly, crystallising every syllable she spoke so that it had a sharp, cutting affect. "Go now. Or we'll kill you."

"Kill me?" I smirked.

The despicable, cocky part of me came into dominance. Maybe the Three girl's arrogance invoked the insecure part of me that wanted to prove myself – but I suddenly wanted those girls to know that I wasn't one of those underfed weasels that were usually thrown in from District Eleven. Soon I was in front of the underfed free girl, gripping onto her wrist and glancing into her blue eyes, which seemed more intricate and electric when up close. The Three girl pulled back desperately, crying out in shock and I clung on to her.

"What did you say about me?"

"Go away," the girl snapped, dropping her picnic basket in our scuffle. "Leave me alone, you petulant idiot."

I didn't intend to kill the girl, but I automatically leered in threateningly – probably hoping to ignite a fear in the once proud girl, but my thoughts all seemed to brake and skid into nothingness as something smashed into the side of my face. Whatever it was had the solidity of a rock, and as I was flung back a foot or two I was dizzied and blinded by the burning pain in my forehead.

When I regained my sight the Six girl was standing over me powerfully, or much more powerfully than I had expected, while her ally uselessly rubbed her reddened wrist, hoping to cease the pain. In that flash of anger I removed my mace and stood up in a combat position, watching as the Six girl's face dropped – she had a lot of power, but she was useless when faced with powerful weapons, and the worried Three girl knew it too.

I brought down my mace, watching it malevolently glow in the moonlight. The Six girl noiselessly moved her lips and dashed aside, swinging an unaimed, spontaneous punch at me. The District Three girl suddenly turned feral and determined, angrily cursing and vexing me while slashing a blade uselessly through the air – luckily she missed, and the one time she had pierced the skin of my neck I realised that though she could injure me, she didn't withhold the power to kill me with a small penknife.

It seemed as if the girl realised it too, because I raised my mace one last time – there was a pause, and the girl winced, expecting death, though I didn't dare bring down the weapon. Fear had seeped into my hands and stiffened them as effectively as Medusa could've dreamed. The girl noticed the pause, and after one shaky breath she snatched one of my rucksacks from my shoulder and sped away, her ally eagerly following behind her – both girls escaped the light of the moonlight and dissapeared into the bushes as quickly as they appeared.

I didn't dare stalk or attack them. I should've expected this lack of allies – it almost seemed inevitable. I felt like a despicable person, masochistically revelling in the thought of my own food being stolen from me. I deserved it; if there was such a thing as universal justice, or karma, it was working its way on me. In my other rucksacks I had food, but barely enough to last me four days – it didn't matter now, the starvation would hurt much less than the loneliness.

* * *

**Leonardo Brydon, District 10, 16:**

A howl cut through the trees, and though it was faded and muffled it was still audible. Tarren immediately came to a stop, listening to the terrifying noise with wide hazel eyes. She turned to me with a weak smile before walking on through the forest, partly obscured by the shadows, though the slices of light often hit her face as she forced herself onwards.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, feeling the cold night air whip my face, stinging the slashes on my face as effectively as salt. I winced again and followed Tarren.

Another gust of wind blew her curly hair to the wrong side, and an annoyed Tarren fixed it fussily. "I'm fine Leo."

Tarren had been stand-offish ever since the Bloodbath. I supposed she didn't see many pleasant sights – I myself only caught a glimpse of the limp corpses, and they were enough to continuously poison my mind and haunt my dreams. Tarren was more fragile too; mentally she seemed inane when it came to handling stress or bad situations. She had been trapped in the midst of the Bloodbath for a majority of it – all those gruesome deaths and haunting sights would've been witnessed by her. To tell the truth, I was glad she was here and alive – now I just had to focus on keeping her safe, as if she were Blakely. I missed him so much, I just wished there was something I could do to return home to him without Tarren dying in the process.

When did wishes ever come true?

"You know it's late?" I told Tarren, trying to restrain my hands from doing elaborate gestures. I didn't want to come on too strongly to my ally, who seemed somewhat irritable. "Wouldn't you like to sleep?"

"How late is it though?" Tarren said. "I only go to bed at eleven thirty, straight after brushing my teeth, combing my hair, washing my hands and face, reading a chapter of one of my science books and observing the stars for a while – I can't even do those things in this arena and I certainly can't tell the time anyway!" The end of her sentence wavered slightly, managing to border on hysteria. She then pressed on with a sigh. "We'll go to sleep soon Leo. I think it would just be more rational if we stayed somewhere that wasn't plain forest floor, with no defence or camouflage."

"Can you climb?"

"Not well.

I laughed ever so slightly, trying not to raise my eyebrows by habit, as I usually did when an awkward question came into my head, something I desperately wanted to ask my blunt friend. "Tarren... Do you like me? Or consider me a friend?"

"You're nice, but no – not a friend. I've known you for three days Leo, friendship doesn't just arrive like that."

There was something stoic about Tarren, I wouldn't say it was annoying me, but my confidence in my social skills and the way I make friends altogether was beginning to erode away slowly. She didn't talk, she only walked on and made a remark about water or something – she didn't offer emotional support, talk about her family at home and she never smiled. If Tarren did smile it was in a disconcerting way, it wasn't anything that made your heart explode with warmth. My relationship with her wasn't as close or unanimous as it was with Blakely, who himself had aspergers. So why did I feel the need to grow close to this impossible girl?

Another howl, like the one aforementioned, erupted through the air – though it was more prominent, whatever the source of the sound was it must've been half a mile from Tarren and I at furthest. The subtle noise crept through the air, disturbing my thought process and, judging from the change of her remote expression, Tarren's too. She looked behind her, meeting my gaze for a fraction of a second, and then turned away, trying to suppress a weak laugh with a shiver.

"Oh, Gamemakers eh?" She said, her voice marred with uncertainty.

"Sounds like a wolf."

"A wolf?" Tarren said nonchalantly. "It's simply noise effects... You know, a full moon and everything – only seems suitable to add a werewolf noise effect or something."

"Why would they only add a noise effect?" I asked. I couldn't help but notice that both of our paces had quickened; we were walking so fast I could feel myself pushing through the strong wind so that it pressed against my face, beads of sweat threatened to roll into my sore wounds, which were still open and stinging. Tarren's tone and voice were casual, but her gait had quickened considerably, she was walking so fast her mane of curls swirled and danced behind her. Her skin was pale and threatening to glisten with sweat, and her breathing grew ragged. "Why wouldn't they just throw in an actual werewolf?"

"They wouldn't," Tarren disagreed "It's the bloody first night, they wouldn't dream of-"

Another howl slashed through the conversation, closer and as prominent as ever. We both stiffened and stopped, and though Tarren hated contact she clutched onto my hand for a fraction of a second, before pulling away and shaking heavily, pushing herself against a tree and threatening to pull herself into a ball. Although there was no movement in me, my muscles and heart clenched, almost preparing myself for the race ahead – every muscle, every fibre of my body became unstable and shaky. Hopefully it was only noise effects, but six cannons were kind of low for a bloodbath, there was a chance that the Gamemakers would want more. The Bloodbath was harrowing, but this moment right now was the first time I felt truly terrified, confronted with an unknown beast in the depths of the night with the moonlight as my only guide.

Did I have a weapon? Earlier in the day I had stubbornly refused to open the picnic basket so I could brush away the temptation to eat, and a logical Tarren agreed with me. Now I was desperately fumbling for something else; after shoving away something that felt like a packet of crisps my hand fell onto something familiar – the rough texture almost made me cry with delight. Mounds of rope, the best weapon I could ask for.

Another howl that grew closer yet again – maybe even twenty metres away from Tarren and I, if I had to estimate. Feeling as if I were in mortal peril I turned to my tremulous ally, whispering in a deathly quiet voice. "Tarren?"

"Y-Yeah?" The fear was evident in her voice now.

"Get ready to run."

"I c-can't Leo... Pl-please..."

"You have to," I hissed as another howl was unleashed. "Please."

Tarren shakily forced herself away from the tree. "Leo... I'm scared..."

And then there was the sound of something snapping, a root only seconds away from us – with a synchronised gasp Tarren and I glanced through the blinding darkness, at something that was invisible. For a second there was stillness, and then another howl – this howl was so close, loud, ear splitting, like a warning trumpet being blasted into my ear. My legs crouched ever so slightly, and then the thing opened its ochre eyes that glew like beacons and I immediately shot off.

Tarren followed suite, though she was much further behind than I was – at least she didn't scream, as the werewolf (or whatever else it was) didn't notice us until we had almost raced out of its clutches, and then it bounded afterwards. I was sure that my pounding heart, Tarren's light cries as she stumbled over roots and the werewolf's hungry growls were usually subtle noises, but the silent air which I rushed through desperately made them worryingly prominent.

I continued pressing on, feeling my feet stomp against the thick roots and I raced through it. Wherever the beast was I could hear it, and I daringly turned around to see Tarren racing, screaming, sweating and panting as those hauntingly orange eyes were right behind her. In the slight lighting I could also see the glint of the beast's teeth as it desperately tried to snag away my ally and feast on her.

Inhaling sharply, I turned around before I sped straight into a tree – which I had only just spotted underneath the moon's sudden shower of light. Tarren noticed my change of direction, and sharply turned too, wisely using my change of path as an indicator. The beast, who almost had my friend in its clutches, was fortunately dim and I heard it yelp as it smashed into a tree.

"Tarren!" I yelled.

She didn't reply, she just panted and held onto her stitch; she was tired, and hopelessly clinging on. The relentless beast still persued us, and it was following us again, though this time it was metres away from Tarren instead of feet. Tarren screamed as she tripped, and my suddenly quick mind told my adrenaline surged hands to send out my rope-

It caught Tarren before the beast did, and with one effortful pull I launched Tarren away from the pouncing werewolf. Tarren buried her face in her hands, not quite believing she had been saved as I raced on. I didn't know how I managed, but I pulled Tarren through the rough, tumultous forest quickly, managing to leap over roots and other snares effortlessly.

I turned around to see Tarren; the eyes of the beast had gone, but Tarren's now grubby face looked terrified as I raced on – she pointed forwards, screaming words that were encumbered by the wind howling through my ears. I quickly turned, but found myself flying over the edge so that the ground at my feet disappeared. I cried out, and Tarren's cry followed when she was dragged off the small cliffside–

And then we landed into wet, warm swampwater. The fall was quick and painless, and though the water was stagnant and dirty its warmth was almost perfect when it flushed away the icy cold of the night. I looked around the darkness, unable to spot nothing but a spluttering Tarren.

"We got away!" She cried, also relieved despite our situation.

"With our supplies in tact," I added – somehow our picnic basket floated, pulling itself along the surface of the swamp's lake languidly, like a boat ready to venture into the unknown. It was dangerous to be so optimistic, but the beast had gone, I had supplies and rope and my ally. Even Tarren (a natural hater of all things dirty) threatened to smile.

* * *

**Melanthe Hathaway, District 2, 17:**

For the millionth time that day I couldn't help but feel sorry for the other tributes; the forest was dark, it was creepy and about an hour ago there were some blood chilling howls that even made Luster shiver. Though the howls had gradually faded and disappeared the forest had one too many creepy noises, and for those tributes their only light source would be the thin strings of light from the moon. Though as Careers Luster and I were much more fortunate, we had even been sponsored an electric lantern that sent swarms of amber light around the proximity, revealing the forest for what it really was and making walking over the dastardly roots much simpler.

I didn't know what to think of my ally – there was nothing to think. Luster held a crossbow tight in his arms at all times, ready to quickly kill any unfortunate tribute he saw, though I gathered he wasn't a psychopath; he didn't revel in the idea of killing, he just wanted to kill whatever tribute he came across straight away. I assumed that that was a slight reassurance. Even now his tall figure stood in the light of the lantern, eyes scanning the area for any tributes to kill.

"No-one," he growled eventually, lowering his crossbow down.

"Have you searched the trees?"

"All of them have birds in them," Luster reasoned. "They'd flee if any tribute crawled in and disturbed them."

When I thought about it I knew Luster had a point – that meant that he was logical, and logical tributes were just as terrifying as the strong tributes with big weapons. I smiled weakly at Luster, though a part of me deep inside wanted to kill him right now. That would be irrational – as scary as Luster was, he was the closest person I had to a friend in the Career pack without me even talking to him; Archimedes was nice, but that was a pretence or a decoy of sorts. I knew a girl who was in the same Science class as him, and apparently – apart from one other Career boy he had met – Archimedes didn't do friends. Astrid was just Astrid. Need I mention her?

I also needed the Careers. I knew I was capable of going solo and that whilst alone I could kill most of the tributes in the arena, possibly all of them with a bit of difficulty. Not only did I have a bit of sword training, I had a natural capability with the heavy, deadly thing (even Archimedes had said so). But that didn't mean anything really, especially when I thought of Naomi, the only girl in the Career alliance who I felt was genuinely kind to me.

"You're quiet," Luster remarked.

"You're the life and soul of the party yourself," I quipped back, the usual sarcasm I held coming back into my voice. It was nice to know that I was still me, despite the traumatic memories that had already been established within my mind. Luster lit a fire whilst I visually jumped back into the Bloodbath, watching as Astrid knocked down a boy barely older than me to slit his throat-

"Sit down," Luster told me as he warmed his hands by the fire. "I bet that lantern can't heat you up like this can, right? You look ill anyway."

Feeling slightly unnerved by the One boy's curiosity I slowly sat down, legs shaking slightly. The heat from the flames immediately cured my hands of any cold, whilst the marigold colours of flame flickered and snatched the air in front of me. Luster toyed with a small satchel that was slung around his shoulder for a brief second, his gaze never lifting to meet mine.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Oh," he stopped fumbling with a square buckle around his shoulder and smiled, though it seemed pained and insecure. "It's nothing really, just a satchel I've had since I was twelve."

"Oh... So it's your token? It's small but it looks big for a token."

Luster laughed, and this expression of amusement seemed much more sincere than his serious comic exclamations. "I guess it is – the Gamemakers were very tentative, but they caved in eventually... I don't know, I was just adamant. This is my source of comfort, so I made sure I got it in eventually. They scanned it regularly, to make sure that there were no weapons or looted supplies in there. I'm sure they were disappointed to find I wasn't breaking any of their silly rules."

I suddenly saw a different side to Luster; the fact he was a comfort source, that he could talk and – though he volunteered – he also found aspects of these Games silly. Hell, I found them ridiculous. That was the reason I volunteered, and I suddenly realised that this whole volunteering thing was stupid. Not just because I was throwing myself into a lion's cage, but because I had defied the very reason I had volunteered. I volunteered to openly add my own twists to the Capitol's game, to rebel. Now I was a conformer, simply joining the Career alliance, killing to survive and trying my hardest to live. Which was more stupid than the other? I didn't know. I felt torn between living and fighting for my beliefs. Returning to the conversation I smiled at my temporary ally. "So it isn't really a token, is it? More excursion luggage."

Luster smiled. "I guess, I quite like it though."

"What's in it?" I asked, reaching for the satchel to look – I was admittedly insensitive and rude in the way I clung on to it, ready to snatch. Luster's expression changed completely for a second, as if he didn't want anybody to look into it without his permission. A frown permeated across his face and he swatted my hand away as if it were an irritating fly, shouting out an uncharacteristic curse word or two in the process. Affronted, I glanced into the embers burning on the ground while Luster's expression softened. My suspicions were also immediately roused – why would that boy not let me see whatever was in that bag? Was it deadly, hidden, or part of his tactic?

"I'm sorry," Luster sighed.

"It's fine."

"No, I am," Luster forced himself to smile. "There's nothing special in there anyway – I just hate it when people scan through it, it makes my security feel... Eradicated. I know that sounds stupid." He turned over the bag and shook it, so that a couple of crisp packets were forced out of the bag with a smile. "See. It's only potato chips."

"You mean crisps," I laughed.

Luster looked puzzled, before laughing. "Oh yeah, I forgot you call them that in the Districts – the Capitol call them potato chips. I only call them that because I've had an insatiable love for them since I can remember, so my mum got them imported from there."

"You must be rich," I grimaced. Seeing as my mother had raked in loads of money from her victor status I was rich too, but I remembered my friend Gabriel and how his family struggled a lot. It made me feel blessed, and I felt Luster should've felt blessed too – and neither of us had to right to feel sorry for ourselves for being here. We volunteered.

"No, average wealth really..." Luster looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes, and though I thought they were blue in the vivid light I could see a trace of another colour in them – swirling on the inner edge of his iris was a yellow colour, not not the yellow in a buttercup or sunshine; a dull yellow that seemed almost unnoticeable. "Average wealth in District One is kind of rich for other Districts though."

"I presumed so," District One still suffered – unlike the tranquil Capitol its residents still had to work hard for their wealth, and the poor in District One were all shoved in 'luxury' apartments (though they had the privilege of actually eating), but their streets were even more pristine and adorned than the wealthy ones of District Two. The wealth gap between District Twelve and One alone were outrageous, and yet people shrugged these social injustices off.

"Anyway," Luster took out a tent and looked at it hesitantly. "I think we should quit this hunting thing for the evening and accept that the tributes are well out of our reach – what do you think?"

I didn't have to tell him that I agreed.

* * *

**This is the twentieth chapter and I'm over 100k words... You know what, if I get 375 reviews before the next update I'll write you all a poem or kiss you all. You choose.**

**And yes, things are going to get dangerous now.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Which tribute can you see backstabbing their ally?_

Interview Question: Are you more of a night person or a day person?


	21. The Tension

Day Two, Morning:

_"Enlightened people seldom or never possess a sense of responsibility."_

_— George Orwell_

* * *

**Holden Gray, District 6, 14:**

Though my eyes were forced shut my other senses remained intact; I could feel the rough wood of a branch pressed against my back, smell the delicate scents hovering out of numerous flowers and I could even feel drops of dew slip off of some unknown surface and hit my face, crawling down my nose softly. After another moment of trying to escape, of trying to flee the harsh world and slip into one of dreaming, I forced my eyes to flicker open and surrendered to my newly awakened state.

Above me a bird was singing a happy tune, serenading the morn while the unusually bright sun cast torches of light so intense I forced myself to squint and turn on my back, so that I was faced toward the brown mass of ground beneath. Despite the brightness the sun provided no burning heat; enough to render the air still, and to provide a state of languor. After observing the chirping bird for another ten minutes I noticed it had no signs of being a mutt – its beak didn't seem weapon-like, neither did its other features. That thought eased me slightly.

Subconsciously my hands had clasped around my flamethrower all night, even throughout my sleep I had folded my hands over it, guarding it in the manner an oyster holds its pearl. When I realised the protective arm in question was hanging limp over the safe perch I was on, my paranoia seized hold of me and I hoisted it up securely. I had a sufficient grip on the thing, but I couldn't afford to lose it; that flamethrower was my key to winning the Games, and if it was ever taken from me I'd be dead before I knew it.

Was I already dead? The question sounded strange when I asked it to myself internally, but it made sense – if there was a fate set in stone was all this fighting really worth it? Or was it a winded, worn out road in which one had to make their own decision? After sighing and observing the tree tops around me I prayed it was the latter, otherwise all this fighting would've been for nothing. My father, who was usually nonchalant and fun once told me everything happened for a reason. I hoped to hell that there was a good reason for this.

Instinctively cracking my joints to start the morning off, I tried sitting up though my attempt was marred by the belt I had used to glue me in my resting place. I had done that in order to prevent a nasty fall, as previous Hunger Games tributes had done before me, but forgetting the belt existed was slightly annoying. My hands grasped the hard polyester, and toyed with it for a few minutes, trying to unclip the tightly secured thing before my balance was lost completely and I slipped with a squeak.

Luckily my belt was still intact, and as I slid off the branch it allowed me to suspend off the tree, supporting my weight while I looked down at lower branches and the forest floor. Thank goodness there was no-one there to see me. I tried moving, but I was uselessly prostrate in mid-air, almost as if I were frozen whilst levitating. I had the choice of staying in the air, susceptible to being caught by the Games' personal predators. I could also undo myself, but falling would be dangerous; I was at least forty feet above the ground. Would a fall that extreme shatter me and kill me? With a parched throat, and a constricted body my quivering hands began to work-

And then a strong, cold hand grabbed my belt from the branch. Whatever it was, it was my temporary saviour because it pulled me up into my original position, propping me back up so that I could clearly face it again. And then my heart froze – this creature was not my saviour. This creature was a boy that was himself supposed to be dead! The District Five boy's once warm eyes were boiling with rage and malign, as black as two lumps of coal. His features were haggard and bruised, and there was something jumbled about his limbs – little marks over his joints allowed to me surmise that the boy's exploded corpse had been stitched together and sent after me, but I hoped my frightening assumption was wrong.

"Hello Holden," the boy's voice wasn't the deep, masculine voice I remembered it being. It didn't contain the same warmth either. The infernal beast leant in closer, forcing its rancid breath onto my face. I throttled and thrashed uselessly, denied the escape I longed because of this stupid belt. And then, from the creature's newly stitched neck I could spot something else that was equally chilling – a noose tied around it, being wrapped around one of the higher branches and hanging the reanimated corpse from above. "Remember me?"

"Leave me alone Callis," I tried sounding strong, passionate and confident but my voice came out as a beg, a plead to this dead body.

"No," the creature laughed maliciously and then raked its yellowing, decaying nails across my brow – I winced and tried to block out the pain as the nails eased their way into my flesh, as they dragged themselves slowly through my brow and released drops of blood. I needed to escape this creature, this demon that was sliding its once torn fingers down my face. Secured in a branch above me were my supplies, but they were unreachable and having them in my grasp wouldn't allow me to achieve anything. But in my hand was the flamethrower...

I couldn't hold the ember spitting device properly, seeing as it was only in one hand and seeing as it dangled uselessly by my side. I tried kicking the strong creature away, but its persistance easily prevailed. Desperately gathering all of what little strength I had I raised the heavy gun with my trembling hand, trying to aim it at the dead creature desperately – "Get away!"

"I will never get away," the creature laughed. "I'm dragging you down into hell with me!"

And then the trigger was pulled. The cloud of fire that roared out of the machine brushed past my body so that I could feel the heat soar past me, threatening to burn, but fortunately it met its mark on the creature's face. Callis screamed and flailed hopelessly as the flames burnt at his flesh, melting at his face and eating away at the rope around his neck. And for that second I felt like a murdering, mercilessly burning away this boy like I did with that Avox-

And then the screaming, flailing thing fell. Thinking this whole situation as too unrealistic and impossible I snagged the burnt coil of rope dangling from the upper branches, feeling my lungs seize up when the rough texture of the rope – and the crisp, scorched end of the fibres, were all too real. As were the aching gashes that were pulled down my forehead. But when I glanced down, to where Callis' new grave lay, I only saw leafy terra. There was nothing suspicious about the ground, disregarding the disturbed patch of leaves where the body had hit.

That thing was real, I wasn't insane.

But were the Gamemakers trying to convince me otherwise?

Slinging my flamethrower up again, I set it down and focused on undoing my belt for good – that way there were no creatures to disturb me, not while I brandished a flamethrower.

I couldn't let a body of a boy I had one lousy conversation with get to me... Callis had haunted me long enough. Did the Gamemakers detect or notice that one conversation I had so that they were able to send him after me, knowing that he'd send a psychological whiplash in his wake? If so that meant they probably knew about the poor Avox who had died through my flames...

And if that were true, I'd see him for a second time soon enough.

* * *

**Archimedes Plutus, District 2, 17:**

My thumb and index finger both grasped on to ivory knight, sliding it over to the position I wanted – I watched with unremote triumph grasping my features as the piece hovered across the black and white squares, dominating the king and giving me the win I needed. I leant back, smiling victoriously at my temporary, unenthusiastic opponent.

"Checkmate."

"How?" Astrid asked lousily, holding her own face in her hands and glancing at the chessboard. When she spotted the position of my knight she rolled her eyes and slumped down so that she lay across the green grass. "Oh."

"A bit of zest would do you some good Astrid," I smirked. The District One girl had never played chess – it was a new concept for the glamorous her. At first the new game roused her attention, and she didn't sulk or express complaint or discontent during the first two matches. Though this was a somewhat stereotypical District One girl, and her temporary geniality soon died, she just moved pieces robotically and allowed me to beat her, which started tiring me. I wanted a challenge! If Astrid actually gave some attention to the game she'd be good, although still nowhere good as me. Chess was my game – a game structured through logic and tact. After a second game I beat Astrid in about a minute, which was record time.

"How do you like this?" Astrid yawned. "It's dull, and boring, and did I mention it was dull?"

"It's a game for intelligent people," I said, earning a glare from Astrid. "What? It's true. Indolence won't win you any game... What do you do for fun?"

"Certainly not that!"

"Party? Getting drunk?" I teased her and smirked. "I'm sure your recreational activities are intellectually stimulating."

Astrid frowned. "I don't party."

"You don't? I'm shocked that daddy wouldn't allow you to do that," I didn't care how insensitive I was being – I didn't have to worry about charming Astrid, as she had already been peeved by me long ago. I'd just kill her when necessary.

"My dad lets me do anything – and don't insult him for it, alliance or not I will kill you if you speak ill of him," the tempest in Astrid's eyes waned, and then she bashfully looked at the floor, obviously uncomfortable as she talked about herself – was that insecurity I could detect? Maybe this conversation could be much more beneficial than a game of chess. "I don't know... I like track running, I'm good at it and I get to escape and move for a while. I like talking to the few friends I have – like intimately talking, confiding, heart to heart kinda talk. I kind of liked reading – it was a bit bland and dormant, but there were some stories I liked... You know, trashy romance ones."

"You? A romance reader?" I laughed, before leaning in and talking with a mock husky voice. "Tell me Astrid, do you want Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet?"

Astrid smiled, only for a moment, and then she shoved my face away with a nasty laugh. "Maybe I do, but I don't want to be swept off my feet here and I don't want to be swept off my feet by you. I mean please, Prince Charming? You're more like Prince Repulsive."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically.

Astrid's sarcasm easily overshadowed mine. "No problem gorgeous."

She may of had the better sarcasm skills but I had something she didn't – information. The girl was insecure about herself and her father, she secretly longed for love of some kind and to top it off it seemed she was a fast runner. That could be dangerous, so if I wanted to destroy any attempt of her escape I needed to make sure her legs had lost their primary function.

"And Archie, just a reminder – I may have told you this shit, but that doesn't mean anything. I'll still kill you."

"Don't worry," I laughed, my statement having both truth and lies in it. Astrid had every reason to worry, but despite possessing the intimate knowledge that she once read soppy romance novels I'd always know that Astrid was a dangerous little killer – it would be stupid, even deadly, to assume anything else. Astrid may have wanted a Prince Charming but I knew that the only person who truly saw her as a Princess was her wealthy father. And the only people that fell in love during the Hunger Games were the tactical, the naïve or the insane.

Whilst I contemplated my momentary ally's strengths and weaknesses the two other Careers came out of from nowhere. They both looked full of energy, refreshed and whatnot. I didn't want that – I was hoping to get them a tribute to kill, but the Gamemakers probably wouldn't have permitted it. Hence why I sent other tributes out on days where the Gamemakers would allow tributes to hide and climb away – I'd go in on the later days so that the Gamemakers threw a kill in my direction, and with more victims on my list there'd be more sponsors for me. Win-win situation to satisfy both of my needs.

Although on the days where the final eight was approaching and the Careers were threatening to split I'd send the others out to kill – there'd be less tributes for them to kill anyway, and the devastating Gamemaker traps would certainly finish off a couple of unfortunate tributes. I'd assume that (even though I quite liked her) Melanthe would be dead by then, so that'd be my perfect opportunity to finish off Luster and Astrid.

"Salutations. No killing done?" I asked, suspiciously eyeing the tributes. Melanthe's blue eyes dulled as she slumped to the ground.

"No tributes found," she mumbled. "I need a proper sleep."

"Not now," I grinned. "You're going hunting again!"

Melanthe immediately shot up so that she could face me, her mouth agape in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right? I went hunting last night! Am I at least getting Luster?"

I glared at the One boy, who looked puzzled and embarrassed. "No, Luster is staying here Melanthe. You're keen? I don't want distracting romances in this alliance, so if you're sneakily playing Romeo and Juliet I suggest you finish such a play and kill yourselves." I turned to the two and smiled. "Oh, and also remember that we're being watched by children – just a reminder, Astrid, because you wash really openly and everything is exposed."

Astrid didn't reply, she only went a dangerous shade of red.

"And," I continued. "Astrid will be hunting too! You're with me today Luster."

"When do you ever hunt?" Astrid asked curiously, before enthusiastically gathering all of her weapons and prancing off towards Melanthe, happy and ready to get to work. "Not that I'm complaining, I'm looking forward to hunting! Come on Mel, don't look sad, it'll be fun and easy!"

"I'm hoping you two grab a kill," I said casually whilst watching Luster plucking a daisy inadvertently, zoning out of the current conversation completely. Underneath that killer I saw there was a softer, cordial being. I just had to make sure that this niceness of Luster's stayed in hibernation, and that the more human tributes like Melanthe didn't stir the beast from its slumber. "I've always wanted to know whether feminism was just a fallacy or-"

"Of course I, or we, will kill," Astrid scoffed, grabbing Melanthe's hand and laughing – much too friendly for my liking, but her laugh was squeaky, high pitched and false. Melanthe didn't seem very enthusiastic either, she only rolled her eyes and stormed towards the forest, preparing herself to face a second day of hunting. I'd have to give her a break soon before she started thinking more rebellious thoughts. "Listen out for the cannon tonight, Archimedes – girl power is taking over!"

I sniggered as Astrid walked off to join her ally, holding the rambunctiousness of a child and the class of an empress. Astrid was stronger than I imagined; she was more classy that the usual District One harlot, but she was weaker too. Underneath that mechanical killer was a human being in Astrid – an insecure, spoilt teenage girl who was as optimistic and soppy as the rest of the female populace. That would definitely work to my advantage. After all, despite powerful female figures throughout history 'girl power' never really had the chance to prove itself to me in the Hunger Games, and Astrid wasn't going to let it blossom anytime soon.

* * *

**Kyliena Rigg, District 4 Citizen:**

Drawing back the curtains almost took me into a new world – it almost took me away from the pain, the poverty and the oppression and into a basic, happier place. There were no humans over the towering cliffs I could see from my kitchen window. There was only simplicity and nature – cliff faces stooping down, and towering up again, ragged and withered but also basic. If nature were an architect it would've considered this – and the endless, smooth miles of sea that sunk into the horizon – perfect. Then I turned away from the window and saw two Career girls on the television screen, prowling through the forest and hoping to find someone to kill, I realised that nature truly had no concept of justice. This country was nothing but a tragedy, and no startling view could detract from that.

But those little, irrelevant things that made your heart soar when you saw them were the things that made you fight on, the details that didn't stop your fight. I realised that again when a startled, tired cry broke through the air. I pushed my unkempt hair back and rushed to my baby, which was lying alone in a cot in the other room.

I didn't know what she was crying for. Maybe she sensed whatever bad vibe I had released, or maybe she was hungry and lonely. She'd always be lonely compared to the other girl's her age – a majority of them would have fathers, theirs weren't killed in the Hunger Games. Sometimes when I went out into the street there were always people who looked at Krinda funnily; she was the daughter of a dead man, the child of the man who had been crushed to death by a self destructing pyramid.

That didn't bring me shame – I was immensely proud of my fiancé, and that pride would always be a part of me – a titanium force that would never be rusted. But I felt sorry for Krinda everytime she recieved one of those looks. Would she always get them? Would she eventually want to watch the game her father had played and lost? I wanted the memory of her father to stay with her, but how could I show her how her father had died? Wouldn't such a thing curse her sanity?

I took one last look into Krinda's ocean green eyes – mossy and earthly, exactly like her father's had been. Then I placed her back into her cot, where she slept soundly, forgetting all her woes and falling into a better world of sleep and dreams. I was relieved that I had finally gotten a break, but all those hopes broke when there was a loud knock at the door. It was probably Krindle's parents, wanting to check up on the baby and ask how I was coping financially.

When I opened the door I got a much different response – Coral, a girl I knew, threw herself onto me into a shaky embrace, sobbing into my shoulder and muttering unintelligible words that I couldn't distinguish through her obvious heartache. Coral was a girl I had associated myself with when we had both set up a secret group, intent on rebelling against the District Four Peacekeepers for their continuously tightening laws. We had been through numerous tragedies together, particularly when unfortunate members of the group had been trialled and executed, but never had I seen Coral so hysterically upset.

"Coral, what's up dear?" I didn't know how to comfort the girl who was sobbing into my chest, but to uproot a problem its roots had to be located.

"He's d-dead..." Coral sobbed.

What? "Who is dead?"

"Blaine," Coral choked as if she couldn't muster the words. I paused – the District Four Career who killed the District Four girl? Yes. I remembered him, and it didn't cross my mind that Coral had actually been close friends to this year's Career. Holding the distraught girl and moving her into the living room with a sigh, I sat down onto the couch and looked into Coral's eyes solemnly. The girl held so much pain... So much hurt, how could I comfort her?

And then I remembered she wasn't the only one who had lost somebody in the Games.

"Coral," I talked soothingly. "I know how you feel..."

"Nobody knows how I feel," Coral said, managing to calm down her once uncontrollable tears. "Blaine wasn't the arrogant, detestable wretch I saw displayed on television. He was a Career... He... He was nice to me." She reflected on the past, wiping away her tears with a finger. "He was intelligent and defined by good tastes. And sincere, honest... A bit too handsome for his own good..."

I held onto Coral's when I sensed the tears coming back again, they started as glimmering droplets in her eyes – like stars, to be precise, and then they transformed into desperate torrents that forced themselves down Coral's soft cheeks. "Coral... I really do understand... You do remember why I started the group, right? It happened when I lost Krindle..." The painful memories hit home, and in my mind I caught vivid images of everything I wanted to forget – The collapsing pyramid hitting Krindle, his coffin being put into a burial, strong pills being used with the intent of ending it all. I swallowed and came to earth, speaking slowly with a pained voice. "I didn't want to live anymore."

"I loved him Kyliena!" Coral threw herself into the couch melodramatically, screeching out lamented cries. Were people usually so expressive when they lost the ones they loved? "I want to die. This is too much... It hurts too much... When a dog is in too much pain one usually kills it out of mercy. Where is anyone's mercy now Kyliena? This pain is too much... It hurts too much..."

"You're being ridiculous now," I scolded, forcing the girl to look in my eyes as I addressed her. "You're not the only one who feels this pain – this is the Capitol." A lightning strike of inspiration struck me powerfully. "Now you know how I feel. How millions of others feel. If you do nothing but cry Coral, do you know what'll happen? Blaine's name will be left in vain. You have to fight for him now, it's time we stopped our petty disturbances in District Four... And..."

Coral finished my sentence with a sniffle. "We need to stop the Capitol."

It was a stupid idea, but would I rather live in this world of injustice or die doing my best to stop it? A mission to infiltrate the Capitol would be deadly, suicidal at best. It would require at least a year of precise plotting, and inspired people who were vehement and ready to risk their lives to make other's better. But to go in would be suicide, I myself wasn't sure I wanted to do this. But it had to be done, if I couldn't move forward now how could I expect other future generations to do so? How could I allow Krinda to be raised in this repressed, unfair society? I didn't care if this mission was destined suicide, it was a necessity now. Or it seemed like one.

"Coral... It's time we stopped pruning the thorns from the Capitol's rosebush," I stood up and looked at the girl – the tears had gone now, faded into red tracks that stained Coral's face. I took one last breath, as if I were ready to take the plunge. "We need to uproot this whole plan... I don't know how, but this is it. We're truly going to try and stop the Capitol."

* * *

**Veronica Vesna, District 7, 17:**

Beneath me was a river, free of algae and other dirty components of nature you'd expect in something undrinkable. Mere metres from me was a waterfall, sending curtains of water crashing down into the otherwise soft water, and releasing little splashes and droplets of pond foam that hit my cheeks. I hated dirt, but I knew the water wasn't dirty – I recalled a geography class in which my teacher said that water falls fertilised the pond... Or was it sterilised? Basically, waterfalls made the water clean.

I had even scooped my water bottle into the water and drank it. I had found it on the first day, and I was yet to be sickening or poisoned. It was safe to assume I was okay. And with the sound of the rough waterfall's jets slapping into stiller water of the pond I felt at ease here. I was sitting on a wooden stand that was raised a couple of metres above the pond, and you could walk so close to the waterfall you could almost outstretch your palm and allow the falling water to cleanse and caress you. There was a kind of public stairway that lead you to the top of the waterfall, but that was a couple of metres up and the thought of falling totally terrified me.

"Well," I looked down at the teddy bear I had retrieved during the bloodbath. He made a good inanimate confidante, a source of comfort and also his usage as a pillow benefitted my delicate neck greatly. "Teddykins, what are we going to do today?" I imagined its imaginary reply – whatever it was, it was speaking imaginary instinct to me and demanding that I find Petunia. "Find Petunia? No... No... I can't."

Petunia was out there somewhere, I was worried she had died but her face had failed to make an appearance in the sky. I thought to the jokes we exchanged, the fun times we had in training – would we never manage to relive such joyous memories in the arena? Probably not. It was better if she didn't have me, she'd easily survive more. I felt like a virus – a little microorganism that crept into someone and destroyed their function to live, the sense of worthlessly had infilatrated me when I had killed Sperren. My District partner was a little grouchy and his hygiene skills weren't too good, but he cared somewhere deep inside. He was a person! And a person killed by that District One boy, by those sick Careers.

But I still felt responsible for my partner's gruesome demise, and now all I had of him was the little splats of blood that were graffitied around my violet blouse, faded into a dull sunset red after I had tried to purge the blood in the river close to me. Sperren was strong, talented and good at heart. I was just Violet, a middle class girl with a undeniable passion for fashion! I was a designer, not a murderer!

But when did fashion kill? The blade in my picnic basket could easily kill, but it was the wielder, not the weapon, that truly endangered my opponents and I. Whilst the sharp end of the knife would suffice, able to dig through to bone, I wasn't an expert. I probably couldn't kill one of the weaklings, never mind a powerful District One boy. And I betrayed the District Seven stereotype – I couldn't use an axe. I was more likely to hurt myself with an axe than another person.

With an anguished, spontaneous cry that echoed my inner despair I flung my teddy bear back, hoping that it would find me an answer. The only result I got was that teddykins, my beloved temporary friend, hit the water. His body stooped itself into the wet depths, subjecting itself to the current and bobbing up and down in the water as my friend swam away from me. I cried and lashed my arm out, but he was too far away to fish out.

My friend was gone.

"Hey look Reed, it's a teddy bear!" Someone cried out a minute or two later.

"Are you sure it isn't a mutt?" A more feisty, feminine voice followed the deep, optimistic one and I uselessly threw myself to the ground as I heard two people begin to walk closer to me, holding the dripping bear. I wanted to go out and ask them for Teddykins back, but I knew that most tributes weren't so generous... The boy was a boy of average height, a sinewy thing with hair so scruffy creatures could make a nest in it. The incredibly small girl was more preened, but her tired green eyes and dark hair both showed a little sign of hardships.

And they both had a knife and good training scores. That wasn't very good. The training scores were a clear indicator of combat talent, and the District Eight boy had a thick, urban dialect that told me he had used knives before. Not to mention his sharp features gave off a cunning impression. I couldn't die – I had to meet Petunia. I had to have some kind of fun, or at least make a fashion statement before dying.

Knowing they'd find me, when their conversational voices approached the small dock I was situated I attacked. I masterfully stirred my gymnastic skills with whatever feeble fighting talents I held, and I moved at the Twelve girl with a sonic speed cartwheel she didn't expect. Using my leg to kick at her, I cried out with surprise when she imprisoned my lower leg in her palm reflexively, as if she had expected such an ambush.

"Well, well," she looked into my eyes passively. "Micah came here hoping to find fish, but we just hooked a fish of our own."

"Excuse me, you're the big lipped one who smells funny," I retorted the untruth like the diva I was, crying out in pain when the palm she had been using as a shackle contorted and tightened around my ankle.

"So that explains the teddy bear," the girl's ally said accusingly.

"I'm more focused on the fact I was almost kicked in the face."

"Oh... Was this teddy yours?" The boy asked me as Reed removed her knife.

"Yes..." I said, trying to journey with the boy's casual conversation in order to be blissfully unaware of the knife the girl was wielding. The Eight boy reminded me of a doctor who always tried to soothe you with smalltalk before craftily injecting a big needle into your arm – but those big needles helped your body somehow. This big knife wasn't going to help me, it was designed to kill me. This was it. The end.

"Nice teddy... A bit wet," the boy smiled. "I'm Micah by the way! The one who's about to stab you is Reed."

The knife trembled in Reed's left wrist as she grabbed onto me with a strength that was surprising for her small size. It was easy to say Reed was a bit of a midget, she obviously had little man syndrome, but the woman version. The girl still shook in Reed's palm as she struggled to stab it into my body – was this hesitance? I counted my blessings. I could live now, right? The girl spoke angrily. "Micah will you stop flirting with our victims."

"Me? Flirting?" Micah winked at me innocently and turned to his ally. "I don't think you should kill her..."

"I don't either, but I'm going to kill her – disregarding us Micah there are sixteen other tributes in this arena and they have to die at some point or another," Reed glared at me. "That's the way of things–"

"You can't kill her, she's an animal! A taller, less furry bunny!"

"Bunny rabbits don't try to kill me."

"Zombie ones do."

"Micah!" Reed growled, she looked up into my eyes one more second and I struggled to keep my balance. And then in that second she let go of my leg, watching me with an uncouth indifference as I screamed and fell into the wooden floor. With that she put her knife back into her pocket and turned around, frustratedly glaring into the horizon – I knew what look she had, she was debating between following her head and her heart.

"I'll kill you next time I see you," Reed said.

"We can't keep her?" Micah looked disappointed.

"She isn't a rabbit Micah."

"But she's got a nice body..." Micah winced when Reed rammed Micah in the gut with elbow, before continuing. "She doesn't have a bad score and she has flippy cartwheel skills..."

"I don't know..." Reed looked at me suspiciously. I tried to hold in my sigh of relief – whether they accepted me into their alliance or not I was alive! I took in every moment, processing and adoring it – the languid waters, the running aqua falling down the waterfall, it was all so precious now. "What do you think, Seven? Last time I saw you it looked like you had an ally..."

For the first time in my life I felt shy and somewhat inferior. "Well... I was looking for her..."

"Great, we can link up," Micah smirked, taking a swig of his bottle of water as if it were a celebratory beverage. "The more the merrier, four can be as bad as two... And I always love being surrounded by women." He glanced at me and gave me another wink. I didn't know what to think of Micah, and he wasn't generically attractive like the Four boy, but he had a charm and enthusiasm that made me a little bit entranced. "You know what we can be? Micah's angels!"

"I am not being your angel," Reed snorted, pushing past her ally and looking at me seriously. "You have supplies?"

"Hygiene products, food, water a knife..." I glanced at the saturated teddy Micah still clung onto by the scruff of it's damp neck. "And Teddykins."

"I don't really care for hygiene products or your teddy bear," Reed gave that seldom smile – was she actually being inviting, showing a sweet part of herself she usually kept hidden? "But it's good you have food and water, we can ration that and you can keep your knife as defence. But I will warn you: Micah really will treat you and your ally – if we find her – as his own personal angel."

I didn't care whose angel I was, I was alive and in an alliance. Though a dark cloud was approaching, such a thing was inevitable in the Games, I felt happy in this short, metaphorical sunshine.

* * *

**My apologies. I've suffered from MAJOR writers block recently and I've needed time to think and recharge. :)**

**Damn, after editing this chapter I realised Kyliena throws a lot of rhetorical questions, doesn't she? I'm sure you all remember Krinda's father.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Who is your favourite Career?_

Interview Question: What is better for making a decision – your head or your heart? I'm a follower of my heart I'd say.


	22. The Murderer

Day Two, Afternoon:

_Glory, built on selfish principles, is shame and guilt._

_— William Cowper_

* * *

**Avalynn Hiebler, District 5, 17:**

It was the afternoon of the second day and there were still eighteen tributes left in this bloody arena. I wanted death. The Gamemakers wanted it too – the still alacrity of the arena had dissolved into nothing but a boiling oven. The Gamemakers' change of weather told me everything – it was much hotter than what it was only an hour before. They were throwing their boredom onto us, and this irritating heat wouldn't wear out until there was a cooling death. I personally couldn't wait for that death – I could never stand blistering heat or humidity.

Though I sped out of the bloodbath knowing I had the widespread knowledge to survive with nature's resources, I quickly realised that I couldn't kill with nature. I had found a few poisonous berries, but what could I do during a conflict? Shove them down my enemy's throat? How ridiculous would that look? I needed death in this arena. I didn't bask in death or enjoy it, need I remind you. I'm not a sadist or a psychopath – I'm one who follows the cruel rules of logic and plausibility, and those rules clearly state that my survival solidly depends on everyone else's extinction.

Was I blinded by arrogance to the degree where I saw myself winning as the inevitable? No. Of course not. The rules of logic also pointed at probability – one in eighteen chance of winning wasn't my favourite of chances, if I were to be completely honest. I considered myself a detatched person, but in that brief second there was a whirlwind of emotions that roared like thunder in my stomach. All my dreams would be shattered, and would my parents miss me? I couldn't fool myself into thinking there was a deity or an afterlife. That conception was foolish and incomprehensible.

I stopped in my tracks when I heard a voice speak. "I think we should move on Leo."

I pinched out a berry from a leaf woven pouch I had created for berry storage, checking it to make sure it wasn't one of the poisonous ones I had taken as small souvenirs. "Yeah, I agree. Is it me or is it hot?"

"The Gamemakers are going to kill someone soon, this weather is their warning," I moved forwards and saw the girl from Eight, the one who was almost as intelligent as I. Though she looked uninjured there were telling tears and mud stains on her yellow blouse. And beside her was her lanky, pretty faced ally Leo – it seemed through the ferocious bloodbath they had found time to reunite. Aww, how sweet. Not. "We just have to make sure it's us that they're not going to strike down..."

No Tarren, it's not you they're going to strike down. I rolled a poisonous berry between my fingers, glancing at the two who were sharing a packet of crisps. If only I could find a way to poison them with this berry – if that would work they'd both die and there'd only be fifteen people left to kill. I carefully manouvered my way around the tree, looking around the swamp the two tributes were nesting in. I barely had time to acknowledge the snapping of a twig that broke under my mass, but what could only be described as a lasso – or a rope made into a lasso – snatched at my ankle and pulled me to the ground, so that I was forcefully pulled towards the two.

"I told you someone was there," Tarren said casually. How could she be so unafraid of me? Curse her. I vexed her with a blazing glare as she nonchalantly threw the empty crisp packet behind her, watching it sail away in the languid breeze so that it disappeared into the Gamemakers' little eco system. "We know you're unarmed Avalynn, and you don't scare us. Go away or Leo will use that rope as your noose."

"You know my name?" I sneered. "Cute."

Leo forcefully tugged the rope around my ankle so that I was dragged closer to the swampy water. Through the stagnant, murky surface I could make out more dirt (the unpleasant swamp smell told me that the water wasn't suitable for drinking) – and a couple of fish. Mutts, I could easily identify them as mutts. They were currently dormant little things – but one drop of blood would turn them into ruthless killing monsters.

I pulled the rope so that it slipped away from my ankle and stood free, raising my hands in apparent surrender. "I give up!"

Tarren glanced at me suspiciously. "I don't trust her Leo... She has something up her sleeve, she always does. I heard the story about how you pressured Leo back into the bloodbath Ava... Now I wouldn't consider myself as the nicest person but you are something else. You are one cold hearted little bitch."

"Thank you," I smirked as Leo fearlessly groped around my pouch, scooping away handfuls of berries and keeping them in his hands. How dare he steal my little stash of food! I kept the anger inside before smirking at the fresh scabs on his face, remembering those wounds as gaping lines that released stored blood. I needed to use the blood that rested underneath those scabs to my advantage. Praying Leo would pop one of the poisonous berries into his mouth, I smirked at Tarren. There was no expression from her but I must have unnerved her. "I wouldn't eat those berries if I were you – some are poisonous."

I gave myself away, but it paid for believable small talk. Leo frowned bitterly, for he had hopefully thought that he had added to his stash of supplies. "Tarren can differentiate that for herself."

"Oh Tarren is so intelligent in your eyes, isn't she Leo?" I glanced at the Eight girl, sneering at her wide eyes and curly hair. "She obviously can't be so intelligent... Not with claiming this location as your little camp... The water is dirty, the fish are dangerous..."

"They only appeared today... They weren't there last night. It doesn't matter anyway – they're harmless, they haven't attacked," Tarren told me bitterly.

"Oh Tarren..." I laughed. "Self proclaimed master of chemistry, physics and maths, you need to brush up on your biology. While I'm sure your knowledge is extensive in the green realm of the living, you're the most limited in that science, aren't you? Then you'd know that those harmless swamp fish of salmon muttations – muttations of the alpha two-six-four variety. Harmless little things that reside in damp waters... But when they smell the hint of blood they turn into nasty little killers..." Tarren's eyes widened while I tore my finger into Leo's wound, using my nails to scratch away his weakened scab, cutting through his face once again. "Allow me to demonstrate–"

Leo gasped in pain, suddenly stunned with shock. Although after grabbing his body and clumsily flinging it into the murky waters I conjectured that he wasn't the strongest person to begin with. The peaceful mutts happily moved around in the water tranquilly, and as a desperate Leo tried clambering back to solid ground his blood must have been quickly detected – I rushed away, but I caught the marvellous glimpse of Tarren rushing to aid her ally as the fish revealed their sharp teeth, suddenly devilish and rabid. There was one cry of pain I could hear, and as I ran out of the sticky swamp into back into the dim lighting of the forest I paused. No cannon. That fool was still alive.

But better news came my way, in the form of a sponsor crate that forced its way through brittle branches and landed at my feet. Whatever was in there was too heavy for a parachute to guide it – I sorrowfully opened it, wishing that it had pummelled a tribute into the ground first. And then I found three things – Contessa had been listening to me after all! I told her I could make deadly traps with only a knife, a shovel and lots of rope. Sponsors must have been reluctant to put their money on me until the moment they saw I was capable of harming other tributes, and in a burst of sponsor money I had enough to make the perfect traps.

If Tarren and Leo thought they were victimised by a couple of killer fish, they were going to weep in despair if they ever came into contact with me again...

* * *

**Broson Gray, District 11, 17:**

The sun blazed brighter by the second, and though the forest blanketed me like a large, green umbrella, whatever heat the sun was producing was suddenly insulating the whole area, turning the arena into one large, uncomfortable greenhouse. Yet the intense sun did little to provide lighting – what little light there was seemed to sparkle and swirl around the air, a dim mist of light so thick everything seemed translucent. Or was I hallucinating? Ever since the alliance I had confronted last night attacked me I had little water, so I seldom drank any of it in fear that it would run out – I had started off with bottles of the stuff, and now I was left with a mere half a bottle. My throat was dry and scratchy, as if it were threatening to peel. And the hazy air blurred my vision and confounded me – every old memory I had seemed distant and hazy... Like a mirage lingering on the horizon, like a trailer for a movie that only gave you a glimpse of the synopsis...

I remembered movies. My family were rich enough to buy a colour television so that the glamorous action stars destroyed aliens and fell in love before my very eyes – every Saturday my mother made us watch one. She loved them too, and the quality time with them. My father, on the other hand, always seemed bored and taciturn. He abhorred spending time with us. He loved us, that was certain, but we were never worth his time. He preferred power and money like any other District One mayor.

"Seriously Astrid, the tributes this year hide too well – Luster and I couldn't find any..."

"We have to carry on until tomorrow morning Mel," I recognised the One girl's voice so vaguely, though whatever memories I had of her were lightyears away – memories in some distant, grim future my hazed mind forced itself out of. But that girl was dangerous. I reminded myself that – she could throw knives as quick as lightning. Though the voices were still distant I desperately scrambled up, my hands gripping onto tree bark that was as dry and rough as my throat – after lashing my limbs around unsuccessfully I finally managed to clamber up, embracing one of the trees upper branches and hugging onto it for dear life. The branch threatened to snap under my weight, but my body managed to hoist itself up. I was high now, high and safe. "Did you hear that Melanthe? Oh come on Mel... You're acting as if this whole affair is difficult or something..."

Affairs. My father had them. I never caught him red handed, but with the rumours burning through District Eleven like wildfire it was becoming more glaringly obvious. Even the kids in school whispered the malicious rumours behind my back... My suspicions were aroused further whenever I saw his arm around the waist of a gorgeous blonde woman, or whenever my mother stared out of the window aimlessly as clear tears streamed down her face. Those moments ruined my innocence – weren't married couples supposed to love each other?

I felt my memories begin to slip away, my dehydration began to snag away at every bit of life I had – I hadn't had a drink for hours... And this immense heat wasn't helping. I quickly fumbled for some water, downing it and restraining a sigh while my thirst was momentarily quenched. It all went away, all the pain went away and I could think about what it was like in the good old days –

But the days where being the mayor's son was fun were burnt into an abyss of nothingness once my father's infidelity became ever so prominent. With the whispers, my mother's visible upset and my inner conflicts all brewing together into a cauldron of hatred and misery, ultimately my childhood was inevitably destroyed. Though I tried, nothing could bring that innocence back – no girl, no friend, smoking or drinking didn't help...

The Career girls were below me now, but I barely registered – their vocals were faint, but they added to the scene, like some sort of subtle soundtrack. I could only make out their hair clearly – one girl had strawberry blonde hair, the other had darker hair. They were talking tentatively–

"What do we do if we catch a tribute?" The brown haired one asked. In her hand was a sword ... Swords were bad. I had a mace, it was somewhere in the rucksacks that all formed one unbearable weight on my back.

"We kill them," strawberry blonde replied.

"Kill? Just like that?"

"We'd probably get more sponsors if we beat them up a bit..." Astrid paused, glancing at some of the trees, though luckily she didn't look at mine. "But that'd be cruel I guess..."

Cruelty. That was when everything felt good again, cruelty was like an effective drug that blocked away my pain – I was a tall, strong guy, so naturally I began to hunt for weaker guys. They were easy to find, but once I found them I beat them as hard as I could. Every bone in their body would be kicked and punched until they were quivering, broken wrecks. And I never got into trouble. I was the mayor's child after all – and for the first time I felt like my father's power was something to value, it had destroyed my childhood but now it was paying its reparations...

My slightly more hydrated mind felt more focused in the present, and yet all those old memories became more vivid – it was like glancing in a crystal ball, seeing every second of my life tick closer until I got to this very moment. The Career girls were searching around desperately trying to find someone, and as well equipped as I was I had little chance of escaping them. And then there was a glimmer of hope – hanging on a branch above their head was a hive full of muttated bees. Bees that had stingers full of acid – I could see the prominent purple in their sharp stingers move with them like glitter... If I dropped that on the Career girls the injected acid would burn through their blood and eat away at their heart...

This would hopefully be the last time I'd hurt somebody, I thought as I began to crawl across the branch, trying to reach the hive and drop it on their heads – it had to work. I'd seen it work in a Hunger Games before, but the mutts were different and the girl who did it was famous. I couldn't quite recall her name. With every step closer the branch groaned more, threatening to snap, though luckily the Career girl's were unaware of what potentially lay above them.

My mother would be shielding her eyes right now. She hated it when I hurt people, and though I escaped any corporeal punishment for my growing tendency to bully she always scolded me for it. And yet I had a growing resentment with my father – he started this vicious circle. Now all I had to do was win these stupid Games and end it myself. I deserved the truth. My mother deserved the truth.

The branch got thinner and thinner as I lay myself down in the missionary position, trying to edge ever so closer to the hive – I prepared myself for the biting pain of the acid being stung into me as I swiped the deadly beehive away, but the pain would be worth it. I had endured pain all my life. I could take it now...

I had to take it. This wasn't for me. This was for mum...

My last thought braked when the fragile branch below me decided it couldn't hold my weight any longer, and I plummeted down so quickly I barely had time to scream. In those last few seconds my childhood raced before my eyes, freezing at the moment I would get reaped. I wasn't in that past anymore, I was here. But that didn't stop any of the regrets or wishes–

I'm sorry mother.

* * *

**Dannielle Wright, District 3, 16:**

Day two was slowly coming to an end. I had no idea what the time was, but the hottest point of the day had passed, which meant that we were halfway through the day (although it was still ridiculously hot) – I just had to focus on surviving through the evening, and then I had to worry about day three. Although everything was currently nonchalant and calm; Abe and I had snatched the food from that horrible boy, and Abe was taking advantage of what she had, with one arm she ate a banana and with the other she casually pushed me while I sat in a tyre swing we had found. I closed my eyes and felt the reactivated breeze hit my face as I swung to and fro, on my own black pendulum.

Surely it was safe to assume I'd survive today? I had weaponry and food, the Gamemakers hadn't sent anything in my direction yet, apart from our run-in with the Eleven boy and Karble's death everything had gone smoothly – the only injury I had received was a bruised wrist, but I considered our encounter with Broson successful. A bruised wrist was worth piles of food, some tributes would lose their life trying to grab what we grabbed later on in the Games.

Abe pushed me forwards again, and as I felt myself glide into the air and fall back I couldn't help but voice a question that had been haunting me for a long time. "Abe, do you think we're going to die?"

Abe pushed me clumsily, losing her thought in shock. Maybe such controversial questions shouldn't be asked – but was it unwise to ignore such inevitabilities? I mean, I was going to fight to get home, I was going to use every last scrap of energy I could, but would that energy be enough to survive? Probably not. In the distance there was the faint sound of a bird singing a sombre sound, almost as if it were answering my question.

"I don't really fear death..." I told Abe as she pushed me once again. This time she didn't stop, she continued her rhythmic pushes so that se mechanically pushed me through air, laying in her daydreams. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't die tomorrow if I got the option, but death isn't a bully, is it? It's a cruel thing, but it doesn't victimise anyone – no matter your skin colour, wealth, status, gender or sexuality you're going to die eventually. I don't feel intimidated by it..." Abe listened to my quasi-subconscious ramble, and as I was pushed forwards into the air I continued talking. "I only worry about how my father would react, how would my family and friends be without me? I feel narcisstic in saying this, but they love me Abe... If I died..."

Abe's arms clung onto the tire as it fell back so that the motion was suddenly killed. My mute ally squeezed my hand tentatively, but her small gesture told me that she was listening, and that she cared. I smiled back at her, brushing my hair back as Abe started to push the tyre again.

"I don't want to die prematurely either... Do we really choose who dies, Abe? Is that fair?" I snorted. "My dad would take my death the worst... He's faced too much death in his lifetime... Before he was with my mother he was married to someone else. I know nothing of her, I've only seen a picture – she was pretty and petite, with lovely blonde hair..." I took another breath and the once still wind blew for a second, howling through the otherwise silent forest. "She died of cancer eventually. My dad was devastated."

Abe frowned as the tragic part of the tale came — but most of all she was entranced by my story, bedazzled by the words that came pouring from my lips. "It ended well though, up until my reaping anyway. My dad met my mother and fell in love again – he felt as if his life were spiralling out of control... And then my mother healed him. He's always smiling and happy." I paused. "But wounds always turn into scars. He gets sad sometimes... He sometimes slips back into the past, into that grief and depression that plagued him when his first wife died..."

Abe stopped pushing me completely when she noticed the tears spilling down my face. Even I didn't notice them, but when I did I wiped them away desperately. I was one who made rational decisions, I was a thinker more than a feeler — so why were these stupid Games making me appear so vulnerable and weak? When I spoke out again, through the sudden stillness that had encompassed me when Abe had stopped pushing. There was a tensity that made me nervous, even my voice had felt strained and hoarse. "When my dad had lost somebody he loved he met somebody who could heal him. And now he's about to lose someone else again, and I spend every second terrified that he won't recover."

All action and movement stopped. Somewhere in the distance another bird solemnly chirped. It was weird wondering about my own death – if I were to die in this arena I'd die in no more than three weeks, but the odds pointed to me surviving much less. How was everyone's reaction at home? Was dad nervously cheering me on, optimistically clinging onto every ounce of hope he had? Was my mother trying to restrain her tears? Was Daniel watching me with all of his friends, cheering me on and begging that I live to see another sunrise? Daniel was much different from me, he was a popular, loved guy who loved being in the spotlight as opposed to lurking in the shade. I missed his enthusiasm a lot.

Abe moved her hands, communicating with me. After translating her for a second I turned and smiled.

"Yes Abe, I'm not giving up. I'm going to fight to make it back to them."

And this time, with my family's faces burning in my mind, I meant it.

* * *

**Melanthe Hathaway, District 2, 17:**

The boy cried out as he hit the ground, disturbing all the forest life around us as his body hit the ground with such a force I could almost feel a small tremor. Astrid was slower to notice him than I – on his back were a myriad of supplies that must of weighed him down. He was a well built guy who was around seventeen and he had striking auburn hair. Both us Career girls paused, readying our weapons and observing the spluttering tribute a couple of metres in front of us.

"Who's that?" Astrid asked, ready to lunge her knife.

"The District Eleven boy – the one who just about escaped the bloodbath."

"Shit."

"He's on the ground Astrid..." I paused, hating the next few words that spewed out my mouth. "He's going to be an easy kill."

Astrid raised her knife to throw, but we both didn't expect the boy to quickly stand and lash out the large, snapped tree branch at us. Astrid quickly threw her knife, but instead of meeting the boy's skull it thunked into the solid branch before falling at our feet. I glanced up to where the boy was, only to see him darting away from us all. Like instinctive predators Astrid and I sped after him, leaping over roots and other things that lay on the forest floor while we chased after the boy far ahead of us. When he saw how close we were to him he lashed away his rucksacks in the hope that the lack of weight propelled him forwards; if we didn't catch him now starvation and thirst would trap him and slowly torture him to death.

"Get him!" Astrid screamed with a reddened face. When she realised I had little chance of catching him (with a sword being my only weapon) she swished her hands forwards so quickly her clammy hands – and the silver blades that followed – seemed like little blurs, though their speed didn't help and Astrid kept on missing. She then removed a curved blade (like a small sickle of a sort, I suppose) and threw it in the most strange motion. The blade was launched into the air, flipping in a circular motion so that it looked more similar to a flying chainsaw than a knife – in seconds it split through a branch above Broson's head and Astrid cried out triumphantly when the branch fell on her victim, flooring him instantly.

"Archie is going to hear this cannon!" She laughed, moving closer to him. I couldn't help but stop running – any feeling of adrenaline faded, I just felt a burning sympathy for the confunded boy who lay on the ground a couple of metres ahead of me. His brown eyes looked up pathetically at Astrid, and the determined, fighting boy I had seen at the Bloodbath suddenly seemed like a helpless child. Maybe he had been a helpless child all along.

And as Astrid moved down with her knife to end his life he lashed his foot up, so that it crashed into Astrid's gut with such force she was flung back into the ground, crying and wheezing. Knowing that fighting was futile (even if he had temporarily disabled his enemy) he hoisted the branch off himself again and stood up shakily, trying to run. But he was too late. My mind had been made. I catapulted myself towards him, raising my heavy sword ahead of me so that I could smash it down on the boy's skull. My clenched muscles and lungs seemed frozen as I moved myself forwards and smashed the sword down–

But the boy dodged aside, narrowly avoiding the weapon that would kill him. His furious eyes, filled with an infernal vehemence, stabbed in my own as he turned to run – but by then it was too late. I swung my sword and slashed it into his gut, hoping that the kill would be instantaneous and swift like they always seemed on the television. But everything dragged, everything became painfully slow. I felt the sword sew itself through the delicate flesh of the boy's stomach. As the blade slid itself further into the boy's wound – which felt more like an open cave now – I could hear the boy's fighting breaths stiffen while blood spilt out and ran down onto the forest ground.

No, it shouldn't have happened like that. His eyes suddenly seemed so agonised. Why was he in so much pain? Why wasn't he dying? I suddenly yanked the blade out of the boy's stomach, almost screaming with him when I saw that his intestines had grasped onto the steel of my sword so that they were pulled out with my blade. And then he slumped to the ground, lying in a river of his own blood and wheezing out his final breaths.

I cried out desperately and slammed the sword back into the boy's wound, hoping it would end him so painlessly as I originally intended. Once again I was unlucky, I didn't get what I hoped for. The boy cried out in concentrated agony, grasping his gaping intestines as if he wanted to stuff them back where they belonged. My heart froze. Why wasn't he dying?

"Why haven't you killed him?" Astrid yelled.

"He won't die!" I said hysterically, stabbing my sword back into his gut. The response was another cry of pain, but no cannon followed. I slashed him again so hard that more blood came spilling out onto the ground. "What do I do Astrid? He isn't dying!"

"It's all in the neck Melanthe," Astrid said calmly, looking down at the immensely injured boy without any emotion on her face whatsoever. Following Astrid's advice I looked to the boy one last time, resting the steel tip at his delicate throat as he choked up blood and tried clawing his twisted fingernails at the ground, unsuccessfully trying anything he could to escape. This was a mercy kill now.

"I'm s-sorry..." Eleven choked and spluttered to the sky, apologising to some unknown entity that I hardly knew. He continued dragging himself away, apologising to the barely visible patch of blue above us while I moved with him, my sword pressing against his neck so harshly it began to release blood. I was the one who should be apologising to his family back home, to him and to anyone that ever cared. With closed eyes I hacked the sword right into the boy's neck and breathed out in relief when a cannon's fire blasted throughout the entire arena.

Somehow I garnered the courage to open my eyes. In front of me was a bloody mess, a teenager lying in his own bodily fluids with gaping intestines threatening to wriggle out of his stomach – his penitent brown eyes open and ill at ease, and the gaping wound in his neck so deep his head almost threatened to roll off. I didn't want to kill, but I expected it to take less than a second. I didn't expect it to be torture; emotional, cognitive torture for myself and physical, paining torture for the victim. I didn't know him, but I'd remember him for the rest of my life. If I had long to live, that was.

Astrid stood beside me, wincing at the carnage. "That was a bit harsh."

"I didn't want it to be like that..."

"Oh, Melly," Astrid patted me and smiled reassuringly. Despite the lack of feeling she had shown for the corpse she truly did seem to care about me. "You enjoyed it, didn't you? There's no need to feel ashamed about it. I told you it wouldn't be so bad." She grabbed my hand and allowed me to amble along with her as if we were chatty schoolgirls. Better than hostility, I supposed, and it gave me a reason to look away from my crimson stained sword. "Now Archie will know we are both killers!"

I was a killer.

Whether that was good or bad I'd never know.

* * *

**Cardinal Volke, District 9, 16:**

I was filled with disappointment. There had been a cannon fire. That was one less tribute I could've tracked, tortured and hunted for myself. Despite my anger, I reassured myself that there were sixteen other little runts out there – and, equipped with numerous blades and sharp weapons, I hoped to find and kill at least four. I had killed sixteen people in my lifetime, and I thought that bumping that number up to twenty would be lots of fun for me. And an achievement.

I wasn't going to win, not now. The Capitol weren't going to allow that to happen if they found out that I was the District Nine serial killer who had hammered fear into its citizens for numerous years. The Capitol loved death and cold blooded killers, and when the really insane people made their way into the Games they let those people have their fun for a few days before offing them. Did I want to survive, or did I want to kill? My dream was to become famous for my crimes, for years I had fantasised about killing a historical figure and being caught and glorified for it – but wasn't the answer right there in front of me? The Hunger Games. That was my claim to fame, the way I could curse the name Cardinal Volke for everyone! I stopped in my tracks and chuckled menacingly. I knew I would die eventually, but why did I care? I had nothing but my legacy to live for. If the Gamemakers – or one of the luckier tributes – killed me in an interesting, iconic or gory way it would only add to my longevity. Like Lyla being crushed by that chandelier, or Maximotus getting torn and stabbed with a measly piece of broken glass...

I looked forward to that. To spill the blood of innocents and die laughing in a pool of my own blood and vomit, engraving my memory into everyone. That would be fantastical. How would I allow the audience to know I was the serial killer who had destroyed the lives of many District Nine citizens? I supposed if I followed my modus operandi and traditionally disembowled and slashed a smile into the face of my victims the citizens of District Nine would take the hint well. Or a better plan would be to announce my criminal status to my first Hunger Games victim... The thought of it in my mind was sublime, phenomenal.

Although the poor creature that would die by my hand wouldn't be my first Hunger Games victim. That would be Elise, and even though killing her was satisfying her death was a bit boring, wasn't it? Due to the blurring nature of the traditional Hunger Games bloodbaths I had to rush such a death, and in turn escape getting butchered myself, thus stabbing the young girl, tearing her tongue out, and running off. Call me a dramatist but exaggerated, long lasting and gory deaths were always the funnest.

As I trailed through the forest floor, hearing the leaves crunch beneath my feet as I desperately weeded potential tracks tributes could've went down, I thought about the dead girl whose body was probably being shipped back to District Nine for nobody to mourn. I always wanted an accomplice, a side kick of sorts, and killing with Elise was fun, but I did plan to ultimately finish her. And so I did, prematurely, but I killed her nonetheless. It was silly for me to of been thankful that Elise was truly evil – such a girl, with a soul as dark as sin, truly would come up with such a devious plan though. A devious plan that would end with her death.

The ground I walked upon suddenly became soft, damp and weak – soon it became watery, though the water was stagnant and soiled. Glancing around it soon seemed glaringly obvious that I was in a swamp, with unlevelled ground and a dark, murky patch of water I didn't like the look of. But some things managed to attract me; a died out, burnt camp fire. A packet of something lying in the ground, floating on a puddle. Yes. Perfect. There had been people here – there had been victims here.

My poise began to stiffen, my back lowering and my fists clenching instinctively so that my dirtied nails impatiently sank into the flesh of my lower palms. I had suddenly turned into the darkly contemplative adolescent into the hunter, my dark eyes scanning around the swamp for the most minute sign of human life. A cannon had gone off recently, and if I had it my way the next thundering cannon would be my responsibility. And then, on cue, I spotted the bloody tattered garment on the ground.

Like a shark finally detecting the perfect scent of blood, or a psychopath seeing it, I rushed over to the ripped piece of denim fabric and crushed it in my hands. Whoever was here must've been injured in some way or another, and my assumption was proven right when I noticed a small trail of blood leading away from the scene. Only small droplets, like dew or rain, leading far away into the unforeseeable horizon.

But those few drops meant everything. Whatever happened the injured fool was so distracted and determined to get away from something it didn't bother to eradicate the glistening trail it left behind. That tribute may have saved his or her skin right now, but if that small pathway of blood lead to it I'd have it cornered. Although I had to be more contemplative – a tribute had died recently, and there was blood. Those things tended to correlate with each other.

This was kismet, I refused to believe otherwise. Fate started this fun roller coaster when it gravitated my silly escort's hands to the piece of paper with my name on it, and it wasn't prepared to stop its little game anytime soon. Perfect. Even if this trail stopped, which it would eventually, I'd have the general direction of a tribute. Maybe even a whole alliance! Yes. That would be too perfect.

Those bloodbath victims had it easy, because the real bloodbath was about to begin.

* * *

**Gah, I can't believe I killed someone! I shouldn't feel guilty though – I was originally supposed to kill 8 tributes in the Bloodbath but I reduced the number out of guilt. And I need to compensate. I'm still in tribute death debt.**

**Now the first night had its fair share of creepers – wait until day two's night. And hope your favourite tributes survives it too.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: What did you think of Broson?_

Interview Question: Do you think of the past often, or do you ignore it and look into the potential future? Or are you stuck in the present?


	23. The Assailant

Day Two, Night:

_"The earth belongs to the living, not to the dead."_

_— Thomas Jefferson_

* * *

**Luster Harbetto, District 1, 18:**

Archimedes wasn't bad company. I had to admit I had expected him to be worse than he was – and he did meet some of my expectations. He was callous, vitriolic and somewhat ostentatious, but silent and undisturbing company nonetheless. We had spent a majority of the day lounging around the Cornucopia, basking in the bright sun and lavishing the silence. Occasionally we ate something, exchanged a word or two and left for bathroom breaks. I'd of enjoyed Melanthe's company more, but Astrid would've been much more patronising and generally worse company than Archimedes could've been.

The silent day had been broken by a cannon. I tried not to react, but I couldn't help feeling slightly sorry for whoever had died. I mean, I didn't really feel too sorry for the person, but I never really imagined death as the nicest thing – that was why I wanted to escape it. When the noise of the cannon echoed around the whole arena Archie looked into the deep sky with a wry smile on his face, as if he knew exactly what had happened.

"The girls got someone then."

"How do you know?" I think my tone sounded slightly rude, and I didn't like asking things out of the blue either. Because of the two things aforementioned, I felt my cheeks flush a bright red.

"I just know these things."

"Oh," I replied laconically.

"I haven't really gotten to speak much about you Luster," Archie glanced at me for a quick second, robotically sweeping his eyes across every inch of my body as if he were scanning me under a microscope. "Do people call you Luster back at home?"

"Luke."

"Luke? What kind of silly name is that?"

"Some science fiction character in the Pre-Panem era," I shrugged. "Before the President did the Pre-Panem pop culture purge two years ago my dad always watched those old movies. I don't remember many – people wearing robes with glowing sticks that could chop your arm off. And yeah, Luke just kind of stuck in my family as a nickname... I think I prefer Luster..."

"And Harbetto is your surname, right? Do you have any middle names?"

"Yeah – Titanium," Archie's blonde eyebrows raised. "Don't ask. It's my dad's name."

"Interesting."

"I guess," I glanced away from Archie, finding it hard to disclose the private information that rattled around in my head. But I had to tell somebody about the mental dilemma that had been agonising me from the moment I volunteered and hurled myself into this stupid arena. I usually kept things bottled up, but this time it had to overflow. "My dad always wanted the best for me. I come from a long line of victors and my dad was a Career who kind of failed the whole getting into the Games thing... I thought he wanted me to go into the Games, but he just wanted me to do him proud one way or another – I could've, if I had the chance..."

Archimedes looked shocked. "Your dream isn't to win the Hunger Games? Are you insane – that is the ultimate reward!" There was a slyness in his eyes that unnerved me. "So Luster, what do you want to do?"

"Make compositions – I can play piano-"

"Multitalented," Archimedes commented. "Are you a piano prodigy? I knew there was more to you than what met the eye... My parents saw the full potential in me with my natural logic abilities."

"I wouldn't call myself a prodigy – over time I've gotten good..." I tentatively continued in a low tone. "I was on my way to finishing my first piece... I mean, I've always done snippets here and there... But this is it, this is the first thing I've done which sounds epic. I just need to get the ending right and then maybe..."

"You have to win the Games first."

"Oh..."

"Can you see yourself winning?"

Could I? I had gotten the joint highest score in training, tying with Blaine (who was now lying dead in a coffin, which proved that scores really were meaningless) – I could use arrows almost flawlessly, I had an unrivalled sharp accuracy. I wasn't stupid, although I wasn't clever compared to Archimedes. And I hated people who used big words pretentiously. I didn't seem as determined as the others, but there were some subtle ambitious inside my biological locomotive, forcing me to chug onwards and win. I wasn't the strongest, quickest, smartest or most determined, but I did have a little bit of all those traits. It seemed impossible, but maybe I had a chance. I did have a chance. "Yes... I think I could."

"So do I," Archimedes laughed. "So you'll have a lot of fun trying to off me..." He forcefully grabbed my pale hand and shook it. "May the best tribute win."

"Err..." I paused. "Yeah."

Damn social skills, or lack thereof. Damn hatred of competition. Damn Archimedes and his questions. I glanced at the Two boy as he stood up and walked towards our pile of food – there was something about him that I just couldn't put my finger on. He was the most intelligent Career, so that instantly set off alarm bells in my head. What was he using that high IQ of his for? Knowing Archie, he wouldn't let any malign plans of his go to waste.

"Urgh," Archimedes grabbed a worm and threw it to the ground. "Worms."

"You don't like worms?"

"Not when they're on the food," Archimedes scooped up a whole load of the things and let them fall to the ground. "And there seems to be a lot of them..."

I couldn't help but notice that as they fell onto the ground, the worms – which were an earth green – stuck themselves onto Archie's jeans, and as an oblivious Archie walked off they remained there, hugging onto him and wriggling about threateningly. I tried to call out to Archie, but I felt strangled – it was just a couple of worms, right? Once again – damn my lack of social skills. A couple of worms never hurt anyone anyway.

Right?

* * *

**Helen Aspen, District 10, 14:**

Call me painfully optimistic, but I had expected the Games to be a lot worse than this. I hardly expected to survive the Bloodbath, but if I did I expected hunger, numbing cold and a constant fleet of tributes and mutts. The Gamemakers hadn't made it too cold, Vigil and I had found a fruit storage that could last for months and there hadn't been a malicious tribute or mutt spotted. Not once – if there had I'd have probably died right now.

I thought back to Astrid, leaning in and her painfully dark eyes set on me while her thin lips formed into an evil grin. That moment when I thought she was going to kill me. And then – just for that moment – I reminded myself that I wasn't close to Astrid anymore. I turned to Vigil, who was scanning the area we were in closely. I had found a treehouse on my hunt for fruit – it was nested in a tall, towering tree and crafted from a velvety dark wood. It was of basic design, and crammed with small things that still managed to consume the whole sanctuary of its space – bookshelves, two chairs, a small table and a large rug.

"I thought it could be good shelter but–" I explained when I saw Vigil frown.

"A tribute that sees it would want it for his or herself," Vigil continued.

"Exactly!"

"Helen," Vigil glanced at me seriously for a second, before showing off that clown like smile. "It seems as if we have a telepathic link. I can read your thoughts right now, and they're telling me that you're hungry." Vigil paused and threw me an apple. I clumsily dropped it, but realised that I shockingly was hungry – Vigil was rather eccentric, and I couldn't help but think that he could read minds. No. That was stupid! It was coincidence or psychosomatic.

Vigil continued glancing around the room inquisitively, his sharp eyes and roving hands lunging around as if the slightest clue wouldn't dare go unfound. To preoccupy myself, I took a book from the shelf. A detective novel, ironically, which was simply called 'the key.' Vigil continued, and like a guard dog hearing the faintest sound he froze when he stopped upon the rug – had he felt something? Despite being distracted by Vigil's unusual search, I managed to force myself to start chapter one.

After a second of reading I gathered that the book was good – albeit a bit generic, so I glanced at a very distracting Vigil again. Unsurprisingly, he had managed to surprise me by yanking away the dust ridden rug which had hidden an ominous, ovular trap door. It had been cut from the same wood as the rest of the treehouse, though the dusty rug that it was once conjoined to had shielded it from the dust and dirt, so it happily showed off its powerful gleam.

"There's a keyhole," Vigil said, before hastily tugging onto the trap door – the door refused to pull away from the ground. "Locked, but look at what's been carved into it–"

"Imagination unlocks everything," I read out the part of the wood that had been hacked away to form the cryptic message. "And there's numbers – two-three-eight... Or two hundred and thirty eight."

"Oh... It's a clue," Vigil paused.

I glanced from the words etched onto the trap door to the words that were all held together in the pages in front of me, forming a story for me to read. Ever since I was young I had read stories – the tales told took me to a better place, where I was told of characters that I could trust more than the people in real life. There were no narratives to tell me of these real people's personality, I had to use intuition for that. I flicked past the first page just as Vigil spoke out–

"Helen..."

"Yes Vigil?"

"The imagination is the key – stories!" Vigil hurried to the bookcases, grasping the numerous hardback books and ripping away the pages, shaking them desperately in the hopes of finding a key. An angry whisper in my mind told me to scold Vigil for vandalising these books so horribly, but I reminded myself that Vigil was probably on the right track, and these books were quasi-hypothetical ones that were designed, for all intent and purposes, as a clue for the trap door. As Vigil ravenously searched through the bookshelf, lost in a storm of torn paper, the anthem sounded. They were displaying the death – there had been one today.

I memorised the page I was on and carefully closed the book, setting it down on the couch before moving to the doorway. "Looks like it's the death recap – I'll go and check who it is."

"I'm hoping for a Career," Vigil said, grabbing one of the last few undamaged books and violating them in the hopes of finding a key. When we had clambered into the treehouse the sky was an overcast violet colour; a dying, warm sunset. Now there was nothing but a clear, dark night sky – there were no moon or stars in sight. There was only nothingness. The anthem's notes had faded and instead a boy's face was shown – dark eyes, auburn hair and rather stony features. It was the District Eleven boy, Broson Gray if I remembered his name correctly.

"The Eleven boy died," I told Vigil, turning to see him standing amidst torn papers and piles of discarded books with a frustrated look on his face – my ally was an impatient perfectionist who expected perfect results immediately. Though his theory made perfect sense, he was wrong. Maybe there was no key after all, sometimes the Gamemakers teased tributes often. The Capitol's favourite facial expressions – other than the 'I'm dying' or the 'I'm a psychopath who is going to kill you' face was the 'I thought I had a chance, but it looks like I'm screwed' face. Not pleasant.

"Maybe it's behind the bookshelves!" Vigil's zealous spark returned, though his eyes paused on my book. "I forgot you brought a book out..."

"I didn't think that of all the books resting in that shelf I'd take the key..." I grinned sheepishly, realising that I was wrong afterall. And, after thinking back to the title of the story I soon realised how forgetful and idiotic I had been! "Although that's ironic... This book is called the key..."

Before I could act Vigil's lanky body darted for my book, forcing it open and scanning it for a key.

"No Vigil!" I tried to wrench the book from his hand. "That's my only source of entertainment and I think the insanity will kill me if I don't have anything to read..."

"Two hundred and thirty eight..." Vigil smirked, instead of drastically dissecting the book like he had with the others he simply flicked the pages until he got to the desired page. I paused in shock – two three eight, how quickly did it take Vigil to piece that puzzle altogether? The quickness of his mind almost paralysed me, and I considered myself an intelligent person. If I had tried to solve puzzle that by myself, I'd crack it eventually, but Vigil seemed to grasp such an abstract clue in minutes. Eventually he turned to the desired page and removed a key which had been tied in. "Perfect! And devious of the Gamemakers – if I had torn it to shreds like I had with those other poor pieces of literature I may have never found the key – but the key, both the novel and the actual key, had been in your hands all this time!"

I could only stutter. "What? – Wow – That's..."

Vigil knelt down again and inserted the key into the hole it belonged in, twisting it with a click. My stomach rolled nervously when the trapdoor opened to reveal a narrow drop – about as wide as a tree trunk... It was the tree trunk. I remember Vigil remarking how hollow the tree was as we climbed it, and now every piece of the puzzle clicked together and made perfect sense. But what was in the deep, dark drop before me? I didn't like to think... Would the Gamemakers openly allow tributes to jump to their death?

"I don't like this..." I said.

"Of course you don't – fifty percent of us are afraid of the dark in some way or another, but it must be harmless. The Gamemakers aren't getting us to solve a clue without rewarding us!" Vigil leant over the gaping cavity, squinting through the darkness beneath him. "I wonder whats in there... You know what Helen, I'll jump in – if you hear a cannon I advise you don't follow, but do you really want to spend your days wandering around a dense forest when there could be secret passageways or something cool?"

Vigil didn't wait for my answer. As I opened my mouth he quickly jumped down. There was a pause followed by a quick crashing noise – I shrieked when I conjectured that Vigil's cannon had fired out, but I realised that he had landed in water. I gasped in relief and tentatively looked into the darkness; I always had feared the pitch darkness, even when I knew it lead to light. But then something caused me to hastily jump in...

I heard Vigil spluttering and coughing. No! I should've remembered the time in training when he told me he couldn't swim ... Could I save him? I could swim, but I didn't have the strength to hold onto Vigil and lead him out of troubled water... But he had saved me... Could I repay him? Oh... God...

I sucked in one last, sharp breath before hurling myself into the abyss.

* * *

**Reed Ardice, District 12, 17:**

Since finding Violet in the morning things had actually improved – with Micah having a macabre sense of humour, and me just being cynical in general it was nice to have a fresh ray of sunshine in the group. Our supplies had increased sufficiently and Micah had to divide his time between us, meaning I got annoyed much less than usual. The arena was now dark, with shadows flickering around the area like flames, but Violet's garrulous manner was kind of detracting the fear.

"I have a passion for fashion," Violet told Micah as they talked. I walked with them, keeping my lips pursed and acting more sullen than I felt; somebody had to be rational in our group, though I enjoyed listening to my allies talk.

"Fashion?" Micah smiled. "My parents work in the textiles industry-"

"Oh. My. God. Are your parents like fashion designers or something?"

"If a fashion designer spends needless hours in a factory dyeing synthetic fabrics for very little pay, then yes, they are fashion designers."

Violet paused, not understanding what Micah had to say. "Fashion design is supposed to be fun, and that doesn't sound too good..."

Poor Violet. It seemed as if she had come from a wealthy family, and I knew from talking to wealthy children in District Twelve that they were as oblivious to the hunger and poverty that strikes the Districts just as much as the Capitol is. Violet lived in a bubble of happiness and fashion, and it would get her killed it a needle didn't prick it soon enough. My family had always had enough to ward away hunger, but I still saw the desperate and miserable look in sunken children's faces as they crawled the sooty streets of the Seam desperately. And – on my way past the Seam towards the town square – I noticed the most pained thing in their eyes. Hope.

"Violet... You don't get it do you? His family is poor."

"Poor? Oh..."

Micah avoided anyone's gaze. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't want sympathy..."

"Why don't you work to get money, so you can't be poor?" Violet asked consolingly.

"It isn't as easy as that Violet," I sighed, for once feeling sympathy towards Micah – his constant devilish smile had temporarily slipped out of place.

"Well... If I... If I win..." Violet skipped forward and smiled. "I'm going to change the world! I'm going to make it a better place for people like Micah. First I'm going to go to the Capitol and rock them with my fashion designs, and fashion designers are always rich – except your fashion designer parents Micah – and once I've bought a mansion, a cute dog, a tres chic wardrobe, a fancy car and lots of District One jewels I'll start going to the Districts in my fancy car and showering all of them with money! And then everything will be sorted."

None of us pointed out the flaws in that plan – but Micah and I both smiled. Violet managed to be so selfless and selfish at the same time, but her inquisitive and bemused heart was starting to fall into the right place – a hopeless place, full of fuzzy daydreams and idealism, but sometimes the nice wrong is a better category than the cruel right. Another conversation started in which Violet asked Micah how he got running water in a world where the only water source he had was a measly kitchen sink –

"We tend to put the water in a pot and then pour that water into a tub," Micah explained. "It takes a while but–"

"And it's never hot?"

"Not really."

"But being clean and looking good and fashionable is a human right! I mean some poor people are born with bad genes so they deserve running water and plastic surgery! I mean, they have a face only a brother can love... Or whatever my dad says," Violet paused. "Although you have good genes Micah, you're not ugly – and Reed, you are so pretty! It's such a shame you're a dwarf."

"Thanks Violet," I grumbled, biting back a retort.

Micah and Violet continued their senseless chattering, their combined voices bouncing around the trees, which were barely visible in the darkness. Though my eyes had managed to adjust to the obscuring cape of night around me, so I could walk and avoid the dark clumps of objects. While Micah and Reed talked I paused in my tracks when a shadow in front of me was moving, making noises like a motor – and it was certainly much smaller than a tree.

"Guys..." I alerted my allies, stepping back before I could approach the thing at a dangerous proximity. It couldn't be a tribute – the noises it made weren't human. They were throaty, as if they had slipped from a human larynx, but there was no human tone – only a haunting emptiness, like scratchy air. Violet and Micah froze when their gaze met the silhouette which my eyes were transfixed upon; Violet squealed, though Micah seemed much more subtle in showing fear.

And then the thing stepped forward, so that it became more vivid in the dim light – it was a human, the District Seven boy to be precise. And then I realised that the District Seven boy was dead. This thing wasn't human – it was a twisted experiment, a devious manipulation of genetics and science to create an undead fiend, with arrows penetrating and skewering its body, sending fresh blood falling onto the ground and staining it. It had haunted, empty eyes, which looked like tumultuous clouds. And most terrifyingly of all it held an axe in its palm.

"Sperren..." Violet croaked.

Luckily as Sperren lunged forward at us it (or he, I suppose) was jerked back, restrained by a tight noose that had been coiled around his neck – though the rope didn't seem to strangle or kill. My hopes had flew up, only to plummet back to the dark ground when the creature had used the large axe in its hand to hack away at the rope. As soon as it was liberated it sluggishly forced forward, with an awkward gait that indicated the creature was gripping new reigns and learning how to walk. Terrified by the axe and its intelligence, I turned and sprinted southwards, in the hopes of escaping such an infernal creature.

I was hoping my allies would have the sense to chase after me, and they did. Violet was a better runner than I presumed, but she still stumbled and hesitated to a dangerous degree, sobbing her dead District partner's name as he lumbered behind her – I only cast her quick glances, just to ensure she was alive, and I could see the transparent tears slipping down her face as her hair danced and bounced with her sprint – like a burning flame, fighting to remain bright. Micah seemed much more casual, though I had never seen him so terrified, if anything he usually leapt to danger. This time his eyes were wide and scared, and his sprint was so wild and desperate he had already overtaken me–

Though the Seven boy moved slowly and lamely, encumbered by roots he refused to acknowledge, every time I glanced at him he seemed to gain speed and get ever so closer to Violet. The shaft of his axe was still held in his tight grip, begging to sink into the skull of an innocent. And the blood that wept from the creature's wounds drizzled over his shirt, an unlimited supply constantly leaking out.

My run stopped when Micah cried out jumbled words and pointed to something – protection! It was a small shed of sorts and we were running towards it. Adrenaline burned through my body and jetted me forwards – soon Micah was at the door of the wooden shack, desperately tearing off a weak, rusted padlock that had sealed the door before thrusting it open and allowing Violet and I to pelt ourselves through the inviting doorway. Once we were in safe he ran into the shed and shut the door right into the creature's face.

Violet fearfully sobbed and ran deeper into the small shed as I ran to the door, aiding Micah in the task of keeping the entrance wedged shut. Using what little body weight I had, I forced my body onto the door that rocked as the screeching creature pounded his fists on it. From what I could see the shed was a lumber one – saw shavings blanketed the floor, and a plethora of axes were hung onto the walls.

"Get us an axe Violet," Micah said with gritted teeth as the Seven boy slammed his strong body into the door, almost bursting it open. Violet threw an axe in Micah's direction, and as Micah caught it with impressive reflexes he cast me that cheeky smile of his – was this fun and games to him? Did he like the danger? I turned to Violet whilst simultaneously keeping my weight pressed against the door, noting that she had grabbed an axe for herself.

"If it gets through we can take it," Micah commented. The stubborn beast was still trying to force the door open.

"Please keep it out," Violet said, backing away so that her body was pressed against a window which offered no view, only the pitch black darkness was visible. "I... I don't want to see him..."

At that moment Violet uttered those words the beast's attempt to bombard the door came to an abrupt halt; there was nothing but silence and the wind howling outside. Violet gave a sigh of relief, but Micah's eyes glew with an apprehension – he knew as well as I did that though the beast had surrendered its barricade, it was going to do something devious. I smiled weakly at Micah and quickly ensured that my knife was held surely in my palm, if it got in one way I would kill it. Another pause took over, and even the wind held its breath in anticipation.

And Violet screamed as the creature slammed its hand through the window, sending glass pieces accompanying the sheet of saw shavings on the floor. She screamed desperately again, but the rotting hand covered her mouth and yanked her back – hurling her into the smashed window so that curved pieces of glass that stubbornly remained carved into her back and sent blood crawling down the walls. Violet gave one last desperate scream, and Micah and I launched into action just as she hurled her axe into the corpse's skull.

The creature gave a cacophonous screech, one so high pitched it sent agony rippling through my ears. I caught a glimpse of it through the smashed window – holding onto the axe that was smashed into its forehead, trying to tear it out desperately. Micah crouched down and tried to reassure Violet, who had slumped to the floor in a comatose state of shock. Soon the beast's cries abated into nothingness, and it slumped to the ground.

"Is she okay Micah?" I asked. My throat felt parched – I had just managed to survive something horrible and I didn't even feel it, there was no fear apparent in my limbs. It was a delayed shock. I wasn't going catatonic.

"She's fine, her back is a bit cut open," Micah prodded Violet playfully. "You alright fire crotch?"

Violet looked up at Micah and I blankly. "I just want to be home... I don't want zombies, I don't want scary sheds and creepy forests – why can't I just go home? Why do I have to do this?" She curled up into a ball in an attempt to hide her tears. "I haven't been too bad in my life... Sure, I've made mistakes, but who hasn't? Why can't I just live? What did I do to deserve this?"

* * *

**Destiny Harte, Capitol Citizen:**

"Mother... You do know it's half past three, right?" Eldrick told me down the phone exasperatedly. "You were supposed to pick me up from school thirty minutes ago!"

"I have a few things to sort out honey," I tartly replied, trying to drive, switch radio station and talk to my thirteen year old son at the same time. It may have sounded somewhat impossible, but when you were a mother you naturally adapted to multitask the impossibilities – sometimes motherhood itself seemed like an impossibility. Before Eldrick could say anything further I hung up and redirected my concentration to the road. It was funny to think that last year Eldrick was an excited kid with a thick set of rose tinted glasses, seeing proper in everything around him. Barely a year later and he was miserable, hormonal and unbelievably sarcastic. That's what puberty does.

"District Four is reportedly at the mercy of an anonymous group of rebellious girls," an announcer said formally through the radio. Usually the news seemed mundane and bleak to me, but something about this story hooked me. "The girls have not been caught or properly glimpsed, but they were reported to have gone into the District Four Car – I mean gymnasium – only for it to be destroyed in a fire minutes later. The Head Peacekeeper, Lasciv Brown, has promised that he would do anything in his power to catch and rid these 'violent anarchists.' The motive for their crimes are currently unknown, but there is reason to suspect that they are trying to ignite another rebellion–"

I snorted with disbelief and quickly changed the radio station. District citizens always tried ending the Capitol's totalitarian regime, but the only thing they managed to end was their lives. The newest channel was making generic comments about the Hunger Games, which had already bored me – no offence to my husband. It wasn't that they were boring, I just didn't find the entertainment in kids running around and dying. "Micah Miraude of District Eight, Reed Ardice of District Twelve, and Veronica Vesna of District Seven all narrowly escaped the lethal attack – which involved Veronica's District partner being reanimated by the Gamemakers–"

My well manicured finger forcefully pressed down onto the power button, and the sounds coming out of the radio spluttered and died as I looked at the glorious Gamemaker department. Some paparazzi lingered outside, hoping to get a glimpse of me for some glamorous pictures.

I sighed shakily and stepped out, trying to block out the attention.

"Destiny! Destiny! Is it true that 'Glitter and Shine' will reunite after almost ten years of separation?"

"Are you still disappointed that your solo album flopped seven years ago?"

This was me. Destiny Harte – previously Love – member of Glitter and Shine, the girl band of the century. I was a massive popstar, desired by all, when my fellow bandmates set me up with Tobias Harte, who was then the head of the psychology unit in the Gamemaker department. He was awkward, shy and nerdy, and those differences attracted me to him. When we got engaged the media storm that rocketed our relationship sent Tobias climbing up the ladder of success, quickly making him the head of arena design, and then the Deputy Head Gamemaker. While Tobias' career elevated, mine plummeted. He didn't want to be with an air headed pop star (and though I pretended to be an imbecile for the public, I certainly wasn't an idiot). I disbanded my music career for him. I ruined everything...

And I get repaid by him going off on flukes, spending at least two weeks straight at work with little to no contact whatsoever. It was aggravating and frustrating. As much as I loved Tobias I wanted attention, I wanted to be loved in return. And I distrusted the widowed witch he had made his Deputy Head – Ruth's beauty and glamour paled and cracked in comparison to mine, but she was a lonely woman who seemed more compatible with Tobias. Lonely women weren't the kind I trusted around my husband. With that in my mind, I opened the door and stormed towards Tobias' office – freezing as I walked in...

Tobias was sat at his seat with Ruth stood beside him, both of them looking timidly at the tall President and his pale daughter. The President's stony eyes and mad, white fluffy hair were really as creepy as they seemed in the newspaper, and Natalya somehow seemed even scarier. I couldn't deny I expected to walk into the midst of a heated affair, but I never expected to walk into The President, with his gloating, hungry smile.

"Destiny Harte..." His gaze barely flickered at me. "What is an old popstar doing here?"

"I came to see my husband."

"I'm afraid your husband is busy working," the President's grey eyes looked at me, taking care to stop at my body. "Your wife is very lovely Tobias... She looks good enough to eat." Another smile sent sickened tingles across my spine. "Remember – she better be in the arena by tomorrow – and try your best to kill her if no other tribute can do it themselves."

The President walked towards the doorway, ignorantly pushing me aside as if I were a dog. Natalya trailed eagerly behind, before giving me a smile girls her age usually gave me – all my old fans. Though the sense of adoration I got from Natalya was much more sinister and threatening. Maybe that was the stony eyes she had inherited from her father, her talon like fingernails and venomous black lipstick.

"I always wanted Glitter and Shine to reunite," she smirked. "How about a reunion for the two hundred and fourth Hunger Games? As Princess of Panem I demand it, and if I don't get what I want there's usually murder..."

"I think there's enough of that in this country," I retorted stiffly.

"Come on Natalya, don't hesitate – I have a proposition for Junx Blackthorne... A job that she'll love," Natalya gave me a sharp look and stormed out of the room, following her father like the evil lapdog she was.

"Toby," I turned and greeted my husband with a warm smile, looking at his confidante with a much less enthusiastic one. "Hello Ruth."

"I was just playing your greatest hits," Ruth said with a joking smile. "I love 'love, love, love me now' – did you write such emotional lyrics?"

"Stop it Ruth," Tobias scolded her as he worked, though I saw a smile that I wanted to hit.

"I made a career out of myself," I said. "Your husband gave you your career – you work in the Gamemaker department because you married him. Is that your ideal vocation? Prostitution?"

Ruth looked stung, but Tobias was obviously quick to come to her aid – he swept his paperwork aside and stood up, grabbing me by my wrist and dragging me out of the room (for somebody with such a wiry frame, he did this quite successfully). When we were outside the room he looked at me sternly, lectured me something I purposely ignored and then stormed back into his office, locking himself back in with his whore. This wasn't paranoia – something was quite blatantly going on.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

* * *

**Petunia Hines, District 11, 16:**

The boiling water filled the cup in front of me, dissolving so that the soluble particles of hot chocolate melded with the water into boiling, sweet chocolate goodness. Though I was probably using a supply a Career would envy, I couldn't help but be unnerved – hot chocolate was something a civilised Capitolian would eat, not some girl from District Eleven who was cooped up in a fight for her life.

I returned back to the office room holding the piping cup, grabbing the thin curtain and pulling it aside to glance out of it, just to briefly look upon the sky Broson had occupied a moment ago. It was weird, the boy who had spent five days trying to bully me was dead. He wasn't smarter or as agile as I, but he could fight. I hadn't expected him to outlive me like this. I still tried to comprehend his death, and though had there was no fondness between us I hoped that it was as painless as it could be.

After sleeping on the springy bed last night I wanted to leave this house. It was probably the biggest beacon in the arena, it would attract tributes like a moth to flame, but this morning I couldn't gather to strength to walk out of the door. I had tried, but I'd be leaving behind warmth, shelter and a lot of food. I'd be more likely to be hidden in the wild but – despite my fancy plant knowledge – I had no hope surviving out there. I had a dagger in here, I also reminded myself. If someone were to enter the house I'd hear them, and I wouldn't hesitate driving a knife into their back when they weren't looking.

I took a light sip of my hot chocolate and jumped when the telephone behind me let out a chime. The chimes were numerous, well timed, and each note sent a new wave of goose bumps around my flesh. Last night that telephone had been as dead as Broson, and now it was ringing. A phone only rang when somebody was waiting on the other side of the line. Who could that be? Another tribute, or somebody in the Capitol? I foolishly lay my hot chocolate on the windowsill to cool and scrambled for the phone, grabbing onto the ringing receiver tentatively. There was so many potential callers – maybe the Gamemakers were rewarding me and my family were on the other side of the line. That was a calming thought. What was the worst that could happen?

"Hello?" I picked up the phone shakily and held it to my ear.

"Hello Petunia," the voice down the line was familiar, alas, it wasn't anyone I cared for dearly. Whose voice it was I'd never truly know, for it had been cloaked by a voice altering machine to sound robotic. I couldn't help but link every trill and hiss to a familiar voice I heard on the news sometimes...

"Howdy," I replied tentatively, faking a smile. "So... Err... Who is this?"

"Take a guess."

I glanced around the room. Whoever the caller was, they didn't care about me too much and they were challenging me. Challenges were to be taken with good nature, I reminded myself. Just take this as one big joke – that's what life is. A big joke. Don't take things too seriously, that was when situations started going a bit awry.

"Is it a tribute?"

"You wish."

"You're from the Capitol, right?"

"You could say that," the voice said mysteriously. I could tell that the person down the line was smirking – the way their tone lifted up. Why they were smirking I'd never know, but I defensively grabbed my dagger and held it close. The room was empty. I was safe. The room was empty – the reassuring chants did nothing to lift my spirit. I still felt scared.

"This is one of the Gamemakers, right?" I laughed frigidly. "You know what guys, that is clever and kind of original... It's almost like you're..."

"It's almost like they're creating a horror movie, isn't it?"

"Snap."

"Unfortunately I'm not a Gamemaker, I'm the actor they hired."

"Actor they hired?" I laughed. "That reassures me a lot... I was expecting someone tall and bulky. A psycho axe killer or something – are you going to murder me with your drama expertise?"

"With the knife in my hand."

"You're blunt, aren't you?" I couldn't smile this time, as much as I wanted to.

"Unfortunately the knife in my hand isn't," there was laughter down the line – it felt electronic, and somehow it was so loud I was sure it echoed around the room. I tried keeping my calm, but it was impossible now. "This isn't a joke Petunia. Have you guessed that yet? Good girl. I'm not the only star, you're here too."

"As the sole survivor?"

"A cameo role – you're the one who dies at the beginning."

I slumped back into the office chair, feeling myself sink into the soft leather. The phone in my hand was now trembling, threatening to slip out of my moist palms, and yet I was pressing it so harshly against my ear the pressure began to hurt my skull. "Now that's not fair... You see I'm not blonde... That helps, right? And every scary movie needs its own sole survivor, a final girl of sorts."

"We already have a final girl. Ever heard of Rayann Carter?"

"She was in the action adventure," I Iaughed at my own joke, though it didn't make the situation seem any more comedic. "This is a scary movie – she's a tragic action hero and she's already dead... I'm the brunette girl who always escapes the killers clutches, and I really want to make the sequel..."

"The sequel? The next games will be the two hundred and fourth."

"That's one big film franchise..." I paused. "Who are you?"

"I'm not telling," there was another demonic, haunting laugh – it was quieter than the first, but somehow it was much more menacing. "If you want to make it into the sequel you have to face me Petunia. Can you handle that? When you came into this house you put yourself into a lot of danger, and you'll be lucky to survive the week. Want some advice? Answer the phone whenever it rings and don't get out of the house – don't try to escape, or you'll meet me prematurely."

"And you'll kill me, right?" I laughed weakly again. "I didn't really bargain for this... I'm more of a rom com person..."

And then the line went dead. The buzzing of the empty telephone was as terrifying as the threats I had received and the ominous ringing of the telephone combined – I wanted to scream and cry, but I decided to be rational. I was fine. I could survive this. Desperately clutching my knife and racing to the door, I grabbed the handle and almost pulled it down. One thought rooted me; I was advised not to go outside unless I wanted to meet my assailant 'prematurely.' Whoever it was, they were outside and bloodthirsty. That thought was terrifying.

With that in mind, I decided to stay inside – if the person over the phone had trapped me in, I may as well make a barricade of furniture and trap it out.

Oh god. This wasn't a joke, and keeping calm was getting beginning to become increasingly harder.

* * *

**Zombies, werewolves, suicide forests, serial killers and threatening phone calls? Our tributes are SO not trapped in a horror movie.**

**... Don't blame me. Our Gamemakers love their pop culture.**

**Late update again. Did I have writers block? Work? Family/personal problems/tragedy? No. I'm just lazy.**

**So review? (:**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: If you could be in an alliance with any tribute – disregarding their personality and only choosing them because of their talents – who would you pick?_

Interview Question: Do you like horror/thriller movies?


	24. The Catacombs

Day Three, Morning:

_"A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same."_

_— Elbert Hubbard_

* * *

**Astrid Evans, District 1, 18:**

I was kind of hoping to get a kill yesterday, but we didn't all get what we want. At least Melanthe had gotten somebody, so that way Archimedes was proven wrong, and when Mr. Perfect wasn't so perfect after all things usually became a lot better. Damn Archimedes and his intelligence, and his sword skills could go to hell too. Every time I thought of him I kind of felt sick to the stomach.

Melanthe had been silenced by the Eleven boy's death. I liked to think that for her sake she was shocked at the pleasure it had provided, but I was beginning to doubt my original theory, so I instead though of a more miserable one. Guilt. She was guilty because she killed him, and so brutally too, and that thought was a constant, nasty echo in her head. I could only hope that such an echo stayed as an intangible whisper instead of manifesting into something worse. To show Melanthe I kind of cared I patted her shoulder.

"When we're back at the Career camp Archimedes might give you a break," I cheerfully told my ally. "Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

Melanthe nodded robotically. "Cool."

"So..." I hated small talk. I was used to gloating or insulting. "What is it like being the daughter of a victor?"

"Well when you're a child you get a nasty amount of attention," Melanthe said earnestly. "And then your parent goes away for two weeks every year, that isn't amazing, and before you know it they're gone... Dead... And you remember all those conversations, those smiles, those training sessions – it was all great while it lasted, but it doesn't last anymore."

"Oh..." I smiled, acutely aware that my question was somewhat insensitive. "I was just wondering what being a victor would be like."

"Fun for some, until the Capitol find more ways to torture you," Melanthe said cynically, stepping over roots and sighing. "For others it isn't so fun... I had a victor sister..." Melanthe realised something, and she changed her wording. "My sister Breviary–"

"Was that the one who wailed out your name at the reaping?" I asked, remembering that haunting reaping.

"No..." Melanthe looked stung, but replied tentatively. "That was my aunt... Yes, my aunt... But my sister, before she died, became mentally unhinged and unstable. That's what the Games do to some people."

"Well that certainly won't happen to me," I chuckled confidently. "Do you think that'll happen to you?"

"I don't think so..." Melanthe nervously fiddled around. "I... I hope not... I'd rather die as me than win as someone else..."

"I just want to win, if I have to be Astrid to win, so be it," I didn't like my next few words but I spoke them out loud with a powerful conviction. "But if I have to be a bloodthirsty killer to win then so be it. That's the best way, isn't it? It's just adaptation... Survival of the fittest... I wouldn't do a Liane Trug and turn all loopy and whimsical."

"You're nicer than Liane was," Melanthe was usually sarcastic, but there was no sarcasm or dry humour there. Honesty filled her voice. Me, nice? I hadn't ever thought of myself being nice before. My dad called me sweet, but his view upon me was twisted in a world of sunshine and money – my mother made it clear that she thought of me as a spoilt little brat. I didn't have many friends. And here a girl was, a girl that hadn't been nice to anybody but Naomi (who was dead) and she was telling me that I was nice. I paused for a second, unable to believe it.

"I am not nice!" I exclaimed angrily after a while.

"You're a bit sadistic, but you are nice," for the first time in hours Melanthe smiled – it was only a quick flash of a smile, but an amused smile nonetheless. "Okay... I'll reiterate – you're nice to me..."

"I won't be nice of you when I kill you!"

"You'll probably tell me you're sorry and give me a bit hug."

I wanted to tell Melanthe she was wrong, but I thought of the point when I slit the District Three boy's throat. As I slashed my knife across him I uttered an apology, I meant what I said, but why? I didn't feel too much remorse, I had almost obliterated that memory from my mind, but the need to repent still lay inside me. I wanted the glamour and fame, to live off my own money, and not the killing that was usually involved in the Games. I wanted to charge through, unharmed and with as little a death count as possible. Don't get me wrong, I knew blood had to be spilt, and I was prepared to slash away gallons of the stuff. But I still had feelings. I wasn't a psychopath, I was a human.

Melanthe and I didn't talk, though the silence wasn't mutual. We both listened to the morning birds sing the first notes of their tune, waking up the whole arena with them. We continued walking in utter silence for about two miles, whispering nothing but curses when we stumbled over annoying roots that tantalisingly attempted to trip us. Eventually we reached the Career base, with the fountain like Cornucopia jetting water into the grass through the cracks it had endured.

Luster sat down on a picnic blanket, glancing into the other side of the forest while Archimedes slept soundly. That wasn't like Archie, I noted suspiciously whilst watching Luster hum some obscure tune casually. Knowing that Luster was vulnerable to authoritative and bossy individuals, I stormed up to him with my hands held dominantly on my hips.

"What are you doing?" I snapped.

"Keeping guard I suppose."

"Are you an imbecile? Going into daydream mode and staring at one side of the forest will allow stealthy tributes to sneak in," I snapped, kicking his crossbow closer to him – Luster jerked to his weapon, worried I had broke it. Unfortunately I hadn't, because if I had I'd of had a much more vulnerable tribute in front of me. "Have a weapon with you at all times! If I wanted to I could've just slit your throat. I was in the right mind to! The Career alliance cannot deal with silly, daydreamy little boys!"

"Hi Luster," Melanthe said casually, walking past the scene as if I wasn't screaming at anyone.

"Why is Archimedes still asleep?" I snapped.

"I'll check," Melanthe sighed. Luster and I watched closely as Melanthe strolled over to Archie, shaking him and glancing at him. After a quick moment her blue eyes widened in horror and she stumbled back. What was wrong? No cannon had fired, so Archimedes couldn't be dead. While Luster stood, glancing at the scene like a useless insect, I sped forward to glimpse upon what terrifying sight there was to behold–

And it was terrifying. Archimedes was alive, but mounds of dark green earthworms were tied around his neck like a deadly necklace, all wrapped around each other and beginning to squeeze and compress. Archimedes seemed somewhat anaesthetised and asleep, though his body was beginning to thrash and convulse desperately, longing for oxygen. With every thrash the earthworms around Archimedes' neck defensively tightened themselves further, like they themselves were one deadly mechanism.

"He's choking!" Melanthe gasped.

"Aren't you clever?" I rolled my eyes. For the first time ever I had beat Melanthe at her own game – sarcasm.

Though she was much too shocked and desperate to think of any retorts, she could only watch her District partner desperately gasp for air. She continued screaming, her and Luster both scrambling for action – Luster ran to grab a discarded sword Archimedes had left, whereas Melanthe tried using her bare hands to yank away the collar of earthworms. There were more desperate cries, and a rushed Luster had clumsily dropped his sword. I angrily shoved Melanthe out of the way with a quiet growl, before slicing through the thick surface of the earthworms as if they were a new layer of green flesh around Archimedes' neck.

The worms were forced to release themselves, and as they were severed they continued writhin on the ground, still alive. Archimedes immediately spluttered and dove up for air, as if he had woken from a small curse. Melanthe angrily stomped on the writhing worms, grinding them into green jelly while Archimedes desperately groped at his neck and sucked in whatever oxygen he could. There was a strange pause, contrasting the desperation that had permeated the scene a moment ago.

"I awaken to a group of earthworms trying to strangle me," Archimedes frowned. "If you ask me, the fact they got me in my sleep at a point where I was unable to defend myself, that was cheating on the Gamemakers behalf! If I'd of died..." Archimedes was such a grateful fella, always thanking his saviours and all. Yep Astrid, you just sit in the corner without any praise and listen to Archie say something arrogant as usual.

"You'd be lying in a coffin if you were dead," Melanthe reminded Archimedes abruptly.

"Aren't you a genius?" Archimedes said dryly. "So why am alive, who saved me? Was it you Luster? It's nice to see one of my allies–"

"I didn't do it," Luster said sincerely.

"Melanthe?"

"Talk about stereotyping here," I snapped. "Are you so blinded by your own arrogance? I get it, I'm a bitch. Luster and Mel are angels, I would totally just let a group of earthworms choke you to death, because I'm just that callous, right?" I rolled my eyes and wiped my goo covered blade across the grass before swiping it back into my belt. "Nevermind. I saved you Archimedes, and I don't need your thanks."

"I..." Archimedes stuttered, stunned by such a surprising revelation. "Surely you'd let me die?"

"I should've."

"There's a reason for everything," Archimedes said, watching me suspiciously. "I appreciate the fact you let me escape a humiliating defeat – you want the audience to see you in a different light, right? You want to be cast in valour and bravery... Too bad, I can see right through you Astrid. I can see right through you..."

"Your theory is bullshit," I sighed, moving over to the food pile we had and grabbing whatever fruit I could find.

"Does anyone else have a better one?"

Melanthe smirked. "She wants a fun game, and it would be a shame for her to lose such a competitor to a trivial mutt so early..." Everybody laughed at that, even I did. "You really want to be a glorious victor, don't you Astrid?"

"It's nice to see you have faith in me Princess," I laughed, taking a large bite from a plum I had salvaged. "What's your theory Luster?"

"Maybe you're just nice..."

I paused, almost dropping my plum in shock. An encompassing silence filled the Career camp. Was that the second time I had been called nice today? What was up with people, why was I being complimented and described with such positive adjectives? This was obviously some kind of dream. Hopefully it was a dream and I would wake up in a satisfying bubble bath. But I could feel the shock so hoarsely, this was all real. The air I breathed, the taste of plum that lingered on my tongue. Why did I save Archimedes? Was it out of the scrap of kindness in my heart? I just didn't want to see him suffer...

"Are you going soft Astrid?" Archimedes teased, crying out when the plum that I had launched at him exploded into chunky bits of flesh and juice.

"Melanthe's theory was closest to home sweetheart," I laughed jestfully. Though there was a lie in that joke – I hated to admit it, I was even terrified of admitting it, but maybe Luster was right after all...

* * *

**Vigil Hatzardys, District 12, 18:**

As I woke up my eyes refused to adjust to the new light that filled the cave I was asleep in. My head throbbed and I spluttered out remnants of water that had forcedly remained in my lungs. Trying to adjust to the world around me, I remembered foolishly and recklessly jumping into the secret passageway the Gamemakers had revealed, landing in a pool of water and being unable to swim... Sinking to the bottom and allowing the water to agonisingly flood my lungs and choke me...

"Nice to see you around," a sweet voice commented. I glanced up into the squinty eyes of Helen, though they were my favourite eyes in the world – she sat close to the newly born embers in the hope that they would dry her clothes. My own clothes were still glued to my body, chilling me to the bone slowly.

"I'm alive..."

"I've seen you crack complicated codes in the training centre, and now you're beginning to realise such simple things as your life..."

"What can I say," I smirked. "I like living, is that bad of me? And despite my remarkable memory the only thing I remember that drowning and having my short, silly life flash before my eyes – care to dish the gossip to me, let me know exactly what happened. Did you save me?"

"Well the difference between us is that I can swim," Helen laughed, flicking her saturated, dull hair back and playing with her thumbs awkwardly. "I jumped down after you... I grabbed you, you looked so pale and dead... I didn't know what to do Vigil, it was so cold and dark and you were heavier than I anticipated. An anchor that threatened to drown me, but I carried on, swimming you through until there was a surface I could haul us both on... You were out cold though, dead I feared. I used whatever resuscitation methods I remembered in my school's health emergency classes and you managed to vomit out a bit of water and begin breathing again... In the rush of keeping you, we lost all of our supplies except the book I had and one apple that were washed ashore, so to speak."

"Trying to make the book readable?" I laughed, pointing the book that sat beside Helen, being renewed by the healing warmth of the fire.

"I wanted to take your clothes off to ensure you didn't catch anything," Helen told the end of her story while taking a precious bite from the last apple we had. "But I felt awkward and... And... Yeah... Sorry... But I searched around the deep, dark tunnel around us and surprisingly there was firewood. I built a fire to dry our clothes and this soggy book... A win-win situation if I ever knew one. After that nothing happened, I napped, though the floor was much too uncomfortable for me to do so, and I waited for you to catch your consciousness again. And I'm so glad you did! Oh Vigil... I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"You did a mighty fine job, if I do say so myself," I praised Helen. "If it wasn't for you I'd be dead, if you didn't look for that firewood we'd have probably slowly frozen to death – you have something a genius envies Helen, and that is common sense. Want to know something funny about common sense? You seldom cross paths with one who has it... And yet here I am with someone very rational. Someone with common sense. Don't think yourself as an extra limb of mine, or a simple accomplice. You're much more than that."

Helen blushed. "Me? Well..."

"But there is one thing you share with the majority," I exclaimed. "You take compliments pretty badly!"

"Well... I'm not used to them," Helen laughed. "I'm... I'm just... I'm useless."

"I hate that word."

"Well..."

"Think about it Helen," I crawled across the damp floor awkwardly, feeling the rough material of my jeans rub uncomfortably on my knees. "Millions of people on this earth... That is enough to intimidate you, easily, you feel like a statistic really. But the fact that you're part of this little human race, on of the millions, that adds to your speciality, don't you agree? There is no being with your exact DNA. No being with your finger prints. No being with those hidden talents and strengths of yours, with those wise thoughts going through your head..." I smiled reassuringly. "We're all special. We all have talents if we use them well... Just make sure you're using them well."

"My talents don't belong in the Hunger Games," Helen said, her voice a hushed whisper that rushed around the wide cave as a speedy echo.

"Keep trying."

"I will..." Helen smiled, moving her hands to mine and clasping on to them. Not as a lover's gesture, cupid would be stupid to aim his arrows at Hunger Games tributes. No satisfied grin or blush found its way onto Helen's face. There was a powerful trust, and a completely platonic one at that. Of course, considering the age gap Helen and I held – and the dangerous situation – that silly thing people liked to call 'love' was unwelcome. In fact, it's permanently unwelcome. "I trust you Vigil. I'm sorry I didn't trust you at first... I like to make myself secure... To be safe, where people couldn't hurt me. My dad and two brothers were the only people I could trust..." Helen took another bite of apple, apprehensively looking at the burning fire. "And now there's another person on that list, and I'm happy that there is. Ever since you saved me from Astrid I realised what a pure, good guy you are."

At the end of Helen's sentiment a parcel fell before us from nowhere, containing a whole bag full with ripe, fresh apples. Helen triumphantly finished off the gnawed one in her palm, not facing the threat of starving anymore. She held onto something else and drew it up like it was a sword...

It was an electronic torch.

"Wow..." Helen said, pressing a button and releasing a beam of blinding light. "Why did they give us this?"

"You mentioned that there was a tunnel..." I paused. "The audience obviously want us to explore it..."

* * *

**Tarren Keenan, District 8, 15:**

Despite his softness with me (Leo always asked whether I wanted to rest, or anything of the sort) Leo was stubborn with himself, forcing his legs to move on despite the agony that encumbered him. I advised Leo that it was best that we stop and investigate his wound, but he was certain that we couldn't stay by that dastardly swamp. Thus he persevered, gritting his teeth with each pained step. Though it was an eyesore I couldn't help but frequently glance at the chunk missing from his leg – I conjectured that it wasn't a deadly wound, but certainly one that would hinder us.

Avalynn Hielber – a prime example of a stoic bitch if you ask me. I had a lot of expectations with her and her malignant brain, and she had managed to surpass them. Whilst, like me, she wasn't the most physically able I had a dreadful feeling that Avalynn was like a virus – remaining in a human body and wreaking as much havoc as possible, constantly mutating in order to survive the antigens that attacked it. The tall, lanky girl seemed harmless, but now Leo's gnarled leg told me otherwise. I hoped she stayed well away, but Leo had left a path of blood in his wake that was unfortunately traceable.

"I think we really need to stop," I held onto Leo cordially. "How about you sit?"

"No," Leo's pained eyes glanced at me. "We have to-"

"I'll be the leader now," I vociferated, forcing Leo down onto a severed tree trunk so that he was sat down. Leo was much stronger than I, but his temporary wound allowed me to overpower him. If Leo's wound permitted me to have physical ableness over him, what tribute wouldn't be able to defeat him? I paused, brushing away such worrisome thoughts. "We don't have any first aid stuff really, but what good is walking going to do Leo? No matter how far we walk we're not straying any further away from danger, you know that right? The Hunger Games isn't like real life... You can't just walk away from things."

Leo's kind eyes met mine. "That was my problem Tarren... I didn't ever walk away from things, I charged right at them."

"A much more wise decision."

"It had too much... I mean with my family..."

"It's Panem, we all have our problems," I smiled brusquely.

"Disabled dad... Autistic brother... My sister... Well, I can't really say but things have happened," Leo paused, our gazes tearing away from each other. "In the past two years it seems as if god, or whatever is out there, is striking us with the harsh fist of misfortune... And I keep running to it Tarren... One by one my family all went through one disaster or another... My brother from birth... My dad... And now my sister." Leo didn't have the slightest trace of tears, but even I – one of the least empathic people I knew – could detect emotional pain. "I've had a hero complex all my life, never asked for help... And it's got me nowhere. I'm scared that one day soon it'll kill me."

"I'm not good with comforting... Sorry..." I looked at the leaf covered floor, somewhat ashamed of myself.

"It's fine," Leo smiled. "You're rational though – what advice would you give me?"

"Cowardice is more rational, heroism more noble and just," I shrugged. "What do you prefer?"

Leo laughed, but soon he turned in the other direction. I couldn't soften things up – I knew that Leo had a hero complex of sorts, and I was grateful for it (it had helped me, that was indubitable) yet it was also somewhat foolish, charging into death. Surely sugar coating would've been worse?

Still, knowing my answer didn't suffice, I continued talking tentatively and unconfidently. "Do whatever you want Leo, just make sure you're doing what feels right. Am I really worth fighting for?"

"Yes," Leo stopped for a second. "You're better than you think you are."

"I know I'm capable," I snorted. "I just know my weaknesses... You know you went up to me straight away during training, watching me, was that because you had brother with Aspergers?"

"I read about your Aspergers on the tribute profile," Leo smiled. "You're different from Blakely – a juxtapose if I had to be more accurate, but that didn't prevent me from feeling this natural affinity towards you."

For the first time in my life I felt touched – truly complimented. The passing compliments my parents and the people from District Eight had given me were too frequent, so as expected the niceness in the words became impotent. But this was different – the feeling was sickeningly warm at first, but then it just felt good. Describing it was too hard, I could only think of one word – good.

I was quickly distracted by the sight of two silver packages, one dropping to the east of me and one gliding down at the west. Two sponsor gifts at the same time? The happy warmth bubbling inside me was then ignited into a joyous, roaring flame!

"You get one, I get the other," Leo said, wincing as he tried getting up.

"Don't strain yourself," I commanded, glancing back and ensuring he obeyed (which he did). I rushed happily over to one sponsor gift, almost tripping over fallen branches in my euphoria, and soon I managed to reach the sponsor gift I had found. It had a tag on it which was adressed for Leo, and I immediately (and correctly) guessed its contents before I even tore the package off. As I tore off the silver wrapping hastily I shouted out to Leo. "It's bandages!"

"Really?" Leo smiled – for once he was less enthusiastic as I was, it was as if bandages were the thing we needed least in his mindset.

I rushed back over to my ally, passing him the roll and making sure to wrap it around his injury. I had finally been granted permission to look at it properly – the bite had easily severed through the flesh and tore it away, but it hadn't went through to the bone thankfully. As I began to furiously wrap the bandage around Leo's wound tightly he stopped me, disemploying my hands and looking at me seriously.

"I can do my own bandages, you know? Get the other package before it goes."

For once I felt Leo had a better point than I did, so I didn't question him, I let him bandage himself whilst I ran towards the second sponsor gift (which looked impressively big, about the size of a suitcase). In my rushed stride I slipped over a root as I approached the sponsor gift, slipping over so that my chin smacked against the hard contents of the package. There was a moment of mild, albeit irritating pain, and then my hazy eyes glanced at the sponsor gift and the message on it.

It wasn't addressed for me. It wasn't addressed to Leo either... It was addressed to a name that was unfamiliar to my mind. Cardinal? Who on earth was Cardinal?

Unfortunately my answer was two large, evil eyes that had been hidden behind a tree, revealing themselves there and then. The darkness made the eyes seem a glowing ochre, like something that belonged to a demon – the next part was a blur... I howled out Leo's name as the District Nine boy laughed and pounced at me.

* * *

**Helen Aspen, District 10, 14:**

Vigil and I traipsed down the tunnel wearily, he held a torch in one hand while I held onto the half-baked book in the other. The light being radiated from the torch successfully ignited the room, revealing the dark, endless tunnels stretched before me whilst providing a little spare light for reading. I knew it wasn't too wise, but in order to preserve some of my sanity I continued reading my book, making sure that the weak pages were carefully turned as I read through them, absorbing the addictive murder mystery tale.

"You're hooked to that book, right?"

I peered up at Vigil, half of his face covered in light while the other was somewhat hidden in solemn shadow. Though I hoped it wasn't visible I could feel a blush stealthily infiltrating my cheeks. "Oh... It's engrossing."

"How far in it are you?"

"About three quarters of the way through..."

"You read it for about twenty minutes yesterday and a bit today and you're through it!" Vigil looked impressed. "You're a quick reader, I daresay you're speedier than me."

"Wow," I acted shocked. "I am better at something than you Vigil? What has this world come to!"

Tall Vigil moved the torch down and playfully prodded me in the ribs with a chuckle. Embarassingly even that week jab hurt, but I laughed along with Vigil's jestful action. We continued walking through the tunnels, though I barely read – all the torchlight revealed was damp, mossy stone walls and the gritty floor beneath our feet. Where was this leading us to? Somebody wanted us to penetrate the deep labyrinth, although I suddenly had a worrisome theory – what if this tunnel system was infinite?

I chuckled sardonically, promting Vigil to look at me. "Vigil, can I tell you something morbid?"

"Hit me with your best shot."

"I want to read this book before I die," I told Vigil. "You know... I've spent my whole life reading stories, taking in their contents and being absolutely astounded by the finesse and powerful imagination of writers... The way they make concepts and thoughs seem like real places, real tales, real people... The way they command words to powerfully, stringing them into poetic sentences that somehow go deep in your soul. I just want to take in one more story before I die, really..."

"Better get reading then," Vigil smiled.

"Yeah..." My sentence froze. "When do you think I'll die?"

"If you do die, it'll be a while away... You'll survive this week Helen..."

"A lot of people didn't expect me to live through the first day."

"And it's the third, isn't it? You've proved them wrong..." Vigil looked at me with what could only be explained as admiration, and such a notion confused me; Vigil easily outperformed me in every aspect of life, yet he was so complimentary and praising. "You need to do that again... Keep proving the Capitol wrong again and again until you win."

"For me to prove them wrong until I win I'll..." The last few words struggled to fight their way out of my tongue, yet it was difficult to restrain them. "I'll have to kill you." I paused again, thinking about my words. I had wanted to say them for so long, but now that they had been uttered I stopped in my tracks – it was a potential inevitability, but I felt that since I uttered those harmful words I had made such a situation reality. Could I kill Vigil if it came to it? I wanted to return home to my family desperately, yet I'd feel like a thief if I took Vigil's life, despite all that he had done for me. What did he think about such a subject? "Could you ever kill me Vigil?"

"I... I don't know," it was nice to see that Vigil was as confounded as I was. Though the thoughts were troubling, I decided to repel them from my head. As if Vigil and I would make it to the final – those chances were slimmer than a District One girl on a super diet. But the other prospects were equally as daunting. Would I lose Vigil, watch him die, or would he lose me? Both thoughts were emotionally agonising... Why am I doing this? What's stopping me from ending it now?

"If I die, you will win right?"

"Helen, I won't let you die," the arm that wasn't busy grasping onto the torch held onto me reassuringly as we happily strolled down the rocky pathway. "You need to stop worrying... I always find a way out, even if it's a small one, and I'll find one again."

I smiled. How could I kill Vigil, who blessed me with unprecendented kindness? How could I slaughter one of the only people I trusted? That was akin to slaughtering Tristan, my father... I paused and hugged Vigil back quickly, pausing when I noticed something in the light of our torch.

"Vigil..."

"What?"

"Look..."

Vigil followed my gaze, looking at the ceilings ahead – the ceiling seemed like it had been plastered from dirt and sedimentary rock (it was the top of the forest floor after all), with roots dying, clutching for the slightest nutrition, protruding from the thin layers of breakable grime. But there was something much more eye catching, something I had been oblivious to this whole time – it seemed like a small outline at first, but when more attention was paid to the detail I could make out the tarnished, rotting wood of rows and rows of coffins, remaining stuck above our heads for potential miles to come.

"Holy Christ..." Vigil hissed, allowing the light to rush to and fro, observing each coffin that continued endlessly down the line. They were all identical, not one differentiated from the other. Luckily they all seemed in rest, dormant and unready to attack – that didn't stop the fear though. Those corpses could come alive at any potential time, and I conjectured that they'd be inescapable.

"I don't know what is scarier," I said, feeling my body shake. "The fact that we've been walking here unaware that we had bodies above us – an eerie catacomb – or the fact that above ground we're in one giant graveyard."

Vigil made no time for conversation, we rushed down the corridors hurriedly, looking for any means to escape. For all we knew the Gamemakers could be planning to activate those corpses at any given time; the Gamemakers would want a death or two on day three afterall, and there was no more interesting mutt and no more perilous death than an army of dead being resurrected to pry upon unwitting undergroud explorers.

I yelped when at a random interval an unforeseen portcullis slammed shut behind Vigil and I, almost impaling me with its descent. Without a word we glanced to the spiked iron gate behind us worriedly as the sound of more portcullis' slamming rang through my ears. What was this? What was happening? The Gamemakers didn't trap tributes for a reason... They wanted something... They wanted death.

I expected the coffins that still hung ahead of me to all burst open, showering me with dust and ravenous corpses – but I was wrong. The trap the Gamemakers had tried to slay us with was much more scary and terrifying – behind the portcullis which had cornered us was a hazy substance, an icy cerulean blue, yet it gave off the most ear splitting hiss – like a predatory snake hunting its prey. That made me pause as wisps of the blue substance began to drift through the metal gates with ease, barely cumbered. Something told me this thing was dangerous, but I couldn't help but be paralysed whilst entranced by the celestial essence in front of me.

Vigil grabbed my hand forcedly. "Run Helen!"

I gasped as I turned, inhaling a wisp of the volatile gas – it was sucked straight into my lungs, so cold that it gave them the most strange icy burn.

"What is that?" I spluttered as we ran, the substance drifting behind us tantalisingly slowly.

"I inhaled it and it chokes and burns," Vigil said as we ran, already beginning to tire. He cast a glance behind us – "and when it crosses walls those walls begin to wither, they threaten to crumble... I dread to think what happens if we were in the midst of it..."

The tunnels seemed one way originally, but now there were many different means of escape – we turned left, stopping when it was apparent that a portcullis obstructed escape down that corridor, and then turning into the other direction. The corrosive gas was slow at first, it almost seemed out of our way, no further a hazard. How wrong it was to guess that! As Vigil and I turned through a new corridor it made a reappearance, flushing its way towards us like a merciless tidalwave.

The portcullis we turned towards was one that was slowly closing, sealing our fate once its iron spikes had penetrated the ground. A desperate Vigil clung on to me, sliding me through to safety and squeezing himself through as the spikes began to hover above his head while they ascended, then they began to close in on his back and brush his feet – I grabbed my ally and gave him one life saving tug, dragging him through into this new room just in time.

My body was lacking oxygen painfully, I felt dizzy and I was only beginning to feel the burning stitch at my side, which felt similar to how my burning lungs felt – the gas in question stopped at the newly closed barrier, allowing a few nasty wisps into the room before somehow dissipating into obscurity. Vigil shakily stood up, coughing and spluttering, before shakily clinging onto me.

"Helen, are you okay?"

"It should be me asking you that," I spoke out and regretted it – my body was telling me to use my mouth to breathe in, but I was worried I'd lose my ally. "I thought I'd lost you..."

"I told you, I always just about make it," Vigil wheezed.

We both turned and paused at the room we were in. We were in a circular room – there was no ceiling, and the cylindrical walls all towered up and left a void where unfiltered light bedazzled us, though there seemed no way to clamber up and escape through the top. Neither were there any ways to return back into the tunnel system; there was one other gateway, but like the one we had ran in it had sealed itself upon us. I felt entrapped and enclosed, but the most prominent and disturbing thing about the room was that it lacked a floor as well as a ceiling (apart from the remaining bits of stone around the entrances). The 'floor' that compensated was a sea of bones, skulls, hips, ribcages, cast out before us.

* * *

**Late update... I've been hit by the summer holiday torpor infection.**

**Helen/Vigil centric chapter... Sorry, but I love them. I hope you do too! ... Oh and yeah, lots of cliffhangers. Eek... They'll all be concluded next chapter...**

**As you can see, though there'll always be at least one action scene (albeit sometimes a small one) per chapter like KobK this fic will become action packed around the end of day three, slow down around the final 12 for more character development, and then gather pace again.**

**And yeah I start college (or high school for my wonderful US readers) on the 10th September, and the following exams will determine the rest of my life... Which is mildly terrifying... So yeah, updates will become slower around that time**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: The opposite of last chapter – ignoring ones talents, and just taking their personality into account, which tribute would you want to be in an alliance with?_

Interview Question: Have you ever had (or felt) a close encounter with death?


	25. The Ambush

Day Three, Afternoon:

_"Under certain circumstances profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer."_

_— Mark Twain_

* * *

**Olga Pierce, Climate Gamemaker:**

The best thing about being the head of the climate and environment department in the Gamemaker's laboratory was that in spite of the labouring experience required the working itself wasn't demanding. There were other lesser important Gamemakers who did the more heinous work, whilst I sat around and made the decisions. I had done little; made the arena hot sometimes, then made it cold, controlled the darkness and the humidity. Though I never resorted to extremities. Doing such a thing would only fill me with guilt.

"Dr. Carter!"

I didn't respond at first, but soon realised that I was Dr. Carter. And Dr. Carter, or any proper Gamemaker, wouldn't be so generous to tributes. Tributes were all chess pieces to Gamemakers, ones that had to be removed piece by piece to ensure that the Game was entertaining for the expecting audience. Was Tobias going to question my morality? Keeping on a contrived, stern expression I walked out into the pristine white corridors with my boss.

"Yes Tobias?"

"I hate to insult your work, you are doing a good job..." Tobias paused. "But tonight can you whip up something a bit more... Punishing... Like a furious rainstorm. I'm not asking for a hurricane or such..."

"Punishing? Why?"

"The tributes have had it too easy," Tobias paused. "I have to kill them..."

"And a rainstorm could change that?"

"Ever heard of hypothermia?" Tobias replied.

"Of course... But you have tried killing our tributes... Those mutant worms almost finished Archimedes... Last time I checked Tarren and Leo were close to Cardinal, who seems eager to claim a life and Helen and Vigil had almost perished in that strange, ethereal mist you had sent..."

"And they survived," Tobias sighed, allowing stress to take him for a second before keeping his rational facade. "Fortunately the Cardinal conclusion hasn't yet been reached, but yes – he is close to Tarren. Helen and Vigil have one more battle to face and the Careers are on the prowl, but they've all survived once... I fear they'll survive again... Should I unleash an arenawide trap? Should I animate the corpses that lie buried in the arena, or could you unleash acid rain, a perishing tempest? There's so many tributes to kill in so little time..."

"You seem eager to kill sir," I pointed out.

Tobias glanced at me, shocked by my shred of morality. "I'm not eager to kill... I should be, but I'm not Abigayl. Don't tell anyone, please, because I do care for the tributes deep inside... I want to provide them with as painless a death I can... I can't help but care for the people who show me their hopes, dreams, family and even the more subtle aspects of their soul – their mannerisms and quirks, for example. But Abigayl we started these Games, and we must finish them."

"Don't throw an arena encompassing disaster," I said, secretly worrying for the tributes. "Only wipe the board in extreme circumstances, or around the final... How about you just throw in a couple more traps and pray that they work?"

"I'll throw in a trap to kill the current safest alliance," Tobias soliloquised. "And tonight I'll throw in many more – and tomorow, and the next day..." My employer paused when his ear phone rang, and he simply chose to ignore it. Probably his wife, I assumed. The popstar had recently been harassing her husband, suspecting infedelity while he worked. I wanted to bring down the Gamemakers, and River told me that we'd finish them when we had the change, but though Tobias was leading this repulsive scheme he didn't deserve death for his sins. He did care.

He turned and walked with his deputy who I avoided – how I still missed and loved my mother, despite her hostile attitude she didn't deserve death either, or maybe my love made me biased. As Dr. Carter I couldn't afford to think of the deputy head Gamemaker as my mother, I had to think of her as Ruth. I composed myself and turned to see a familiar face in Avox apparel-

"River!" I gasped, and lowered my voice in case of security cameras. "Is that you? You're an Avox, what have they done to you?"

The buxomly lady turned and began to walk. "Nothing, do you think they'd capture me? I am fully aware that communication devices in this building are harshly monitored, and I had so much to tell you – I know the liberal alliance have weekly meetings, but I grew impatient. I had to get this disguise and speak to you immediately."

I turned away from River, back towards my office so the CCTV cameras couldn't catch anything suspicious – if a security guard such as that fiend Manny Nutt were monitoring us, it would seem as if we were going about our work, or as if I was giving the 'Avox' in front of me cold commands. "I have to be back in my office soon – you have foolishly endangered both of us. What do you desperately need to tell me?"

"You surely know of all the arson attacks in District Four?"

"Of course, it has blitzed the news and the radio stations."

"It seems as if these attacks were not commited by hooligans, we have managed to hack through the Capitol's censoring system and communicate with other Districts, and we managed to talk to two people, Kyliena Barns and Coral Rigg – both have set up a group of rebels!"

"In District Four?" I gasped as I clutched onto the door handle. "One most loyal to the Capitol... No doubt the President would try to snuff such vehement acts..."

"He has tried, but they aren't being blatant in their attacks... Subtleness is the only way now, isn't it clear?" River went up to the coffee machine and allowed hot chocolate to flow into a polystyrene cup that was supposedly for one of the Gamemakers, still keeping her face from the camera's view River continued. "If this example latches onto the other Districts they'll all revolt, all overthrow their Peacekeepers and unite to overthrow the Capitol... But unlike the last rebellion they won't have to fight their way into the Capitol. We recruit more and more people by the day, and sure some of our numbers dwindle when certain members of ours are shot in protests, but we can guide these rebels in... Think about it Olga, there'll be freedom for everyone."

"Tobias is planning an arena wide disaster soon," I whispered, opening the door to my office and slowly crossing the threshold. "Can we not save these tributes?"

"No..." River sighed. "This plan will take a year at least... Maybe five, maybe ten years..."

"Just go," I snapped, already grieving the tributes whose lives would end. "You've put us into danger, now leave before you're caught."

The tears in my eyes released themselves, strolling down my cheeks. I was stuck in this dull position, forced to control the arena's atmosphere and induce misery. I couldn't save these tributes. I couldn't even tell my mother how much I loved her because she didn't know I existed, she thought of me as some trivial environmentalist who had killed her old colleague. I hadn't even garnered any information for the liberal alliance's benefit. Where was the goodness in this? When would there be benefits?

* * *

**Leonardo Brydon, District 10, 16:**

Tarren screamed as one of the tributes lunged towards her, cackling with delight and pinning her to the ground hastily and eagerly raising his blade, ready to crash it down into my ally. Luckily I reacted quickly, lashing my lasso around the fiend's blade and allowing it to escape his grip. The Nine boy cursed and fumbled for another knife, but by then my ally had gained her wits and she slammed her knee into her assailant's crotch.

He keeled over, crying out in agony as Tarren scrambled to the sponsor gift that had fell – no! She should've ran towards me. I cursed her haughtiness whilst glancing at the Nine boy, who clung onto his violated pelvis whilst laughing through the agony. What kind of freak did that? A sadomasochist? That only made the situation seem a lot more dangerous. He seemed like the kind of person who enjoyed eating babies for breakfast.

Cardinal slowly thrust himself into action as my ally tore off the paper of his parcelled sponsor gift, revealing a black briefcase. He fumbled for another knife again, but I used my lasso to constrict him again desperately – I stood a bigger chance in battle than Tarren did, after all. Though the Nine boy was strong, I managed to conjure enough strength to force him to the rough ground at my feet. If I could subdue cattle, I could easily knock down the horrid psychopath in front of me.

Though he was more cunning that I had predicted, as he had somehow managed to use a concealed knife to saw his way through my lasso, permanently ruining the one thing I called a weapon. I yelled out desperately as Cardinal threw himself off the ground, spontaneously slashing at me so uncontrollably his attacks easily missed. I shoved him back and desperately turned, looking for somewhere to run. But I couldn't run, my injured leg wouldn't allow me.

"Run Tarren!" I cried out. "Run f-"

My commands were destroyed when I felt a blade pierce the back of my shoulder. There was a second of blinding pain, making my blood curdle and my vision whiten, and then I was thrown to the ground as the agony conquered me. I was blinded, but I could still hear the attacker laugh, feel red hot blood spill from my wound, smell the dirt that my nose had been pressed against.

My sight managed to find its way back into my eyes as my attacked turned me around with a gleeful smile. "The name is Cardinal... I'm your killer, and I like to play with my food..." He orientated his knife around my face, looking for the best place to mutilate me. "You tried fighting me, but like every other simpering, pathetic human you lost. Do you know I have faced off people much stronger than you. Do you know where they lurk? Underground, decaying as maggots slowly eat away at whatever flesh remains on their broken bones. One quality humanity shares, ultimately their biggest weakness, is hope. I can still feel the hope radiating from your heart, I can feel it beating its last few beats furiously. Your breaths are finite District Ten, your eyes will soon close. Are you still hopeful? Your ally has probably done the wisest thing and ran, but I'll find her and kill her too... Want to know how?"

"Educate me," I heaved, trying to turn towards the ground and banish Cardinal from my sight, but he gripped my throat and forbade me from ignoring him.

"Well I think I'll start with..."

Cardinal, like me, was interrupted mid sentence. A large black case smashed into the side of his head and smashed him into the ground. Tarren looked furious and merciless, for she kept on whacking Cardinal and shouting harrowing expletives. She didn't stop until Cardinal's skull bled, sending small crimson blood into the ground. She looked down upon him with ragged breaths, and he seemed well and truly overpowered.

And yet my enraged ally didn't give up – the heavy, solid briefcase she held was strong enough to stun someone, to bludgeon them to unconsciousness, but Tarren was desperate to take it a step further. She continuously smacked the briefcase into Cardinal's head, ignoring the puddles of blood or the teeth that he sometimes spat out. She seemed hellbent on killing him, but rage wasn't her muse – she was full of fear. I could see her hands shake, hear her release a loud scream as she bashed in his skull a few more times. Soon she stopped, looking down at her assailing who (though injured) was still alive and laughing.

"Do you have anything to kill him?" Tarren asked, shakily wiping the sweat from her brow.

"No."

"We have to go," Tarren looked at her victim (and an ironic victim at that) before throwing the suitcase at him once more, so that Cardinal groaned as the suitcase forcefully crashed into his harmed skull. "Keep the suitcase you motherfucker."

Shocked by Tarren's passion and anger, I tremulously elevated and held onto her hand. "Lets get away from here – what was in that suitcase?"

"Oh, vials of chemicals, the usual thing," Tarren shrugged as we sped away from Cardinal's body. "They were usually acids though... I think the audience wanted to see someone get tortured. I wouldn't let that happen, not right now. I wish we could've killed him Leo, but I... I don't know... We could've used his knife, or what if he had others? Panic made us foolish, desperation just wanted us to run... And now he has a load of chemicals..."

"And you, District Eight scientific genius, didn't take them?"

"I'm not a genius," Tarren grinned as we moved onto an unexpected gravelly pathway, which we then decided to venture. "But who said I didn't take a few vials? Only ones with the chemicals I could identify though... Although I'm sure those other chemicals are all acidic, corrosive, poisonous and explosive I didn't want a big suitcase to hinder us... I've only taken about fifteen, but I can mix it up into something big... Or use natural ingredients... Who knows what the possibilities are?"

I may of felt the need to protect Tarren, but it was reassuring knowing that (in her own weird way) she was capable of taking care of herself. "Did I ever tell you how fantastic you are?"

* * *

**Aibileen Karpis, District 6, 16:**

The chaos all seemed so sudden. Danni and I were walking, allowing the taciturn atmosphere to engulf us whilst we pondered and silently admired the aesthetics of nature – sundry trees surrounded us; oak, elm, yew and various others I couldn't identify, all rising like natures answer to a skyscraper, their manes of leaf soaking up the sun and casting waves of shadows around the forest beneath it. Roots were released from them, their own wooden, encumbering limbs. Sometimes I could see the sun – through the small cracks above me. It was very rare I saw sun, moon, sky or stars without any obscuring foliage.

It seldom happened, but when it did Danni and I couldn't resist stopping and admiring the sky, knowing it was potentially the last sky we'd ever appreciate. That pessimistic thought expressed, I thought at the time than my friend and I were secure; we had food, a weapon and no dangerous encounters yet – the only encounter we did have was with some boy who was strangely dead now. That thought didn't truly comfort me – there were mutts, traps, Careers and high scoring tributes that were all prepared to kill me.

"Lets hurry," Dannielle said as I stopped observing the copious amount of trees surrounding us. "I get a bad feeling about this place–"

As Dannielle moved forwards in a rush to quit the area a root on the ground snaked its way in front of her leg, outstretching itself so that she tripped to the ground with a surprised cry. That root just purposely tripped Dannielle over – the words sounded mad in my head, like something from a fantasy novel, but this was the Hunger Games, and one of the things I had learnt from reading books about doctors was that anything could be achieved biologically when genes were meddled and toyed with.

"What the hell?" Dannielle exclaimed, looking at her dirt covered hands irritatedly.

With my muteness being a disadvantage again I couldn't verbally confabulate with my ally, only open and close my mouth uselessly – and as she lay prostrate with her vision aimed opposite me signing was impossible. Noticing the receding root that had tripped Danni, I moved towards my ally in the hopes of physically alerting her. Though (as expected) the coiling root would not permit such a thing; it lunged for my leg a couple of times, and with jumps and hops I avoided it.

Though it wasn't the only section of the tree that had come to life – roots to the right of me suddenly became conscious, roots behind me and any other plant life that lay still on the forest floor came alive, like deadly wooden serpents that had come together as a malignous choir. I cognitively cursed as a couple of roots wound themselves around my ankles, forcing me to the ground.

Though I could make no noise my ally was roused by my inactivity and by the sound of my body hitting the ground with a dull thud. She saw the army of live roots with wide, blue eyes before she quickly stood up and waved her knife at the roots. They weren't intimidated in the slightest, though they were somewhat tentative whe they whipped themselves toward her, trying to disarm and drag her.

I felt useless as the plant life tried to drag me to god knows where. With an angry scowl I began to kick and thrive, slowly wriggling out of their harsh grip to go to the aid of my ally, who looked alarmed as the roots began to surround and attack her relentlessly – when I did escape I leapt towards Danni, trying (and kind of failing) to avoid the moving roots, which seemed to stiffen and erect angrily when I dared throw a punch in their direction. In a mad way they reminded me of Medusa's hair, only much more physical in their assault.

"What... Is... This?" Danni asked as more roots attached themselves to her. She managed to hack and cut into some roots, but they had eventually conquered – one by one latching onto her arms, legs, waist and chest and struggling to drag her to the ground. Upon reaching her I took the knife from my ally's hand forcefully, ignoring her cries and beginning to attack the thriving roots, though they were sturdy and strong – as I slashed furiously at the thriving roots the worst I could do was chip away some of the bark.

Fortunate, and unlike my ally, I had managed to avoid being captured by the roots, their limbs constantly snatched at me in an attempt to bind and tangle me, but years of boxing training had blessed me with good reflexes. And it also seemed as it the trees came more alive with each dodge – after avoiding and hacking at the live roots, the tree's branches accompanied their ally, swung at me harshly.

Though rough bark and thorns grated my skin away I raised my arms, tactfully using skilful jabs and right hooks to deflect the fiendish tree's blows away with my own, though I could already foresee that I wasn't in a victorious position – the roots that ensnared Danni were beginning to crush her against the nearest tree whilst I boxed with a tree. It sounded strange when written down, but I was literally having a hand to hand fight with a tree.

I ducked under a whipping root, used my fist to block a swinging branch (and wincing as I felt more blood flow out of a fresh cut) and uselessly tried using my knife again – it had no use. I felt the tears looming somewhere, desperation and adrenaline beginning to wane, everything seemed useless and the tree seemed temporarily unconquerable. Danni screamed as her face was compressed to the solid trunk of one yew tree, but I was of no use now – a blow from the live tree sent me to the ground, defeated and useless.

I even felt myself begin to die when a miscellaneous root wrapped itself around my neck, lifting my whole body off the ground and executing me like I was a criminal of sorts. All this fighting and trying would come down to a tree? What an undignified way to die. My blurred eyes looked across to the ally, who was still being crushed against the tree opposite me. I felt stupid and useless, being rendered paralysed by a noose-like root that squeezed the life out of my with its vice like grip. However, it didn't to anything to ebb away my determination – with the thought of Danni's life on the line, as well as mine, I bucked and thrashed continually until dark circles began to fill and obscure my vision like a swarm of locusts. Slowly the energy burned out of me, everything became slower, less drastic...

And then there was a flash of heat, numbed by my dying lack of perception. I couldn't feel anything but the root that strangled me ease away before I crashed to the ground helplessly, lying up and staring at the green ceiling of leaves that blocked the sky and the sun. The pain around my neck was still apparent, although dull and dreary. I still felt myself fall into unconsciousness bit by bit, until I turned to glance at a shocked looking Danni who lay beside me with beads of blood flowing out of her nose and mouth.

I took in a breath, smiled and then curled up into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Archimedes Plutus, District 2, 17:**

"Day three and there's been seven deaths?" I couldn't help but feel infuriated. "Why is it taking the Gamemakers so bloody long? Why have they given us an arena where tributes can hide so easily? Forests like these are supposed to be loose so it's easy to spot prey, but no, the Gamemakers just don't want an intelligent Career like me. Can't you feel the new wave of Hunger Games bias, Astrid? I can smell it... I've smelt it since Iopian won the 201st Games, and Rayann winning the one after that. The Gamemakers are obviously playing moral guardians here. They don't want the Careers to win!"

"Hmm... Totally," Astrid said, but I soon realised she was being sarcastic. "They only gave us all the high tech weapons in the Cornucopia, ignored our immense weaponry skills and gave the little tributes somewhere to run or hide with little means of fighting back – gosh, damn those Gamemakers, they hate us!"

"I got these beauties with pure wit," I boasted.

"Hm, what do they do?"

"This sword," I said, indicating to the one I currently held. "Has an electric current in it, all I need to do is press a button and all I need to do is stab a youngling in order for the current to zap them and fry them. Fun, right? This thing," (I patted a knife that was abnormally long) "I like this one. I've concluded that it has a plasma based core of sorts, because it can pretty much burn its way through anything... And the knife adjacent? You'll like that one Astrid, if you press a button it ejects the blade towards a target – like a throwing knife, only less skill required, and then press another button and a magnetic pulse drags the blade back. I have a few more of the hi-tech stuff, but I left it at the base. Isn't science miraculous?"

Astrid blinked. "I don't get the fuss over it, to be honest."

"What?" I sounded affronted. "Everything we get comes from science! The food we eat, the vaccines we get to cure us, those silly designer clothes you wore – science all gave us them! It permitted us space exploration, took us back in time and gave us a glimpse on what the earth looked like – we can edit a biological being's DNA, create indestructible weapons! Are you trying to tell me that science is of no use whatsoever?"

Astrid flicked back more of her strawberry blonde hair, listening to my rant with keen ears. I knew I had won as we continued walking along the forest, looking out for tributes as some furry creatures communicated to each other. "I totally get where you're coming from Archie, I really do... But science is so overrated. I mean, it just isn't natural – science is selfish. It helps humans but destroys nature, really. We cut it down and use it all for our own gain – animals become research things, trees become paper, metal in the earth becomes steel that we use for some trivial reason or the other." The vain District One girl checked her nails, making sure no dirt had infiltrated them before continuing. "I mean is there any point? Science may fight disease, but I heard in the Pre-Panem era a scientist trying to find a cure for some old disease called AID or something instead created a new disease that ridded half of the planet, this country shouldn't even be called Panem! It was North America before disease melted governments and collapsed civilisation."

"That's an urban legend–"

"Nuclear war didn't end the world Archie," Astrid laughed. "My daddy is friends with some scientist and he was talking about nuclear blah boring stuff in the air, and a lack of it showed that no nuclear weapons have been used in thousands of years, so what if disease almost did eradicate humankind? And then science poses a threat... Nuclear bombs, newly created mutts. And as much as I love all this cool technology stuff, do I really need it? Is this science stuff just promoting superficiality too? I'm superficial, shallow and an arrogant bitch. What started that? Science making trivial stuff for covetous people like daddy and me."

I paused, awed by Astrid's argument – an argument which seemed moderately intelligent whilst being backed by seemingly valid scientific evidence. What could I say to that? Science was dangerous as well as helpful, only a fool could say otherwise. Were humans foolish to meddle and manipulate nature in such a way? The one thing I had worshipped just seemed meaningless now. But I could still use it – science and intelligence could be used to kill, Astrid told me that, she acknowledged it. Soon she'd experience it.

"I'm impressed by your argument Astrid."

"It was a brief stroke of genius," a twig snapped behind us and with one flash of movement Astrid killed a deer, watching it fall to the ground as a knife protruded out of its head. My ally shrugged and walked along, me walking with her. "Try to challenge me with any other argument and–"

"Can you give me one benefit of genetic engineering?"

"Erm... It makes people pretty?"

"I'm afraid you're right... Not about genetic engineering, about your stroke of genius," I paused. "Shame. I want someone intelligent on the Career team to talk to – Melanthe is intelligent, but she feels more than she thinks... She has a rational facade, but that's only a mirror – it reflects a meaningless surface and it's fragile, easy to shatter. A tormented girl with such strong emotions can never be rational unless they are psychopathic, am I right?" Astrid nodded in corroboration. "And Luster is intelligent... I've had talks with him, but he knows all that theory, it's cooped up in his little head. But he's much too introverted to show any talent, too modest – therefore he has little ability to apply such knowledge into more practical situations."

"You know them well," Astrid commented.

"I do. I watch every move, every mannerism – Luster fiddles with the shoulder pad of his satchel when he's nervous, Melanthe hates eye contact when a conversation takes an emotional level – I even know some of yours Astrid; when someone does something foolish you raise your eyebrows."

"And you still plan on betraying them?"

"Well... Yes, around the final eight. All Careers do that – I wouldn't be surprised if they (or you for that matter) did the exact same to me, only I intend to be one step ahead of the competition."

"I can betray them – I have a moral passport to do so," Astrid said to me. "I don't do anything emotionally with them – I don't observe them or find out about their life, how could I do that to someone I was to kill? What a daunting thought!" She scowled at me. "If I knew someone like the back of my hands – if I knew what their favourite colour was, or what they ate for breakfast, killing them would be extremely difficult. I'd do it, but I'd feel passionately guilty, wouldn't you?"

"It's a game Astrid. I play it regardless of favourite colours."

"And do you plan on betraying me?" Astrid grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me straight into the eye. "Could you kill me as easily as you could kill Melanthe and Luster? Could you? Killing you wouldn't be my favourite thing in the world... Every conversation I have with you I feel my spirit entwine just that little bit more with yours. Every word exchanged is one more thing I learn about you. If I didn't know what you were like, Archimedes Plutus, I could easily say without any hesitation that I trusted you."

"When it hits the final eight just go," I said indifferently. "That way I kill the other two – if they're still alive, and you have a fighting chance. I'd still kill you, though."

"And I you," Astrid's eyebrows raised again – not in a haughty manner, as if I had said something foolish, but in an exasperated one – it was she who had been foolish. "Lets forget this and find someone to kill."

With pleasure.

* * *

**Vigil Hatzardys, District 12, 18:**

Helen clutched onto the metal bars frustratedly, looking out at the mossy corridors ahead of us before turning to me. It seemed as if we were well and truly trapped – both portcullis' were tightly shut, and even somebody as lanky as me was unable to squeeze through the narrow spaces they provided, there was no way out – there was the open space above us, but that was only the Gamemakers teasing us. How could we climb such a distance with no apparent ledges? The walls were smooth and untouched, unaffected by any decay. Why couldn't that gas have just killed me? It would be much quicker and time consuming than waiting around and starving to death, slowly becoming one of the skeletons that made up the flooring below me.

"Maybe there's something below us," Helen said, moving over to the fragments of bones and using her hands to scoop them up and fling them aside, slowly but surely burying a small hole into the mound of bones. It was a clever, but an altogether fallible plan. It was day three and there were no deaths, so the Gamemakers weren't going to let us escape their sanctity of terror so easily. What did they want from us? Starvation? I was pretty hungry already, but dehydration would kill Helen and I first. Or...

I voiced my concerns to Helen. "That won't work."

Helen seemed frustrated as she aggressively tried shovelling the bones away. "Why?"

"The plan seems too easy," I simply said. "Gamemakers want death... Of course it's against Gamemaker conduct to place a tribute in an inescapable situation, but they can obviously put us in a very tricky one. Simply digging our way out would be too easy... And we're already underground, surely the Gamemakers won't permit us to go any further? No... Certainly not. They can't make it certain, but those rascals are going to try and kill us first."

"How? Starvation?" Helen frowned. "Better than being torn apart by a Career I guess."

"Starvation is much too boring."

"So what will they do? Send a mutt in?"

I nodded solemnly. Circular room full of decaying, yellow bones? It was the perfect place to send in a few skeletons gladiator style. But how to escape? Defeating the mutt wouldn't promise survival, there was no way out of the portcullis' and the walls were so slippery it was impossible to clamber out of this underground prison. Maybe getting out was related to the lever situated approximately ten meters above my head. I didn't mention that, did I? I dismissed it as unworthy, but that was a foolish first mistake – of course it was the way out!

... Too bad I wasn't abnormally tall.

"We're trapped and there's potentially a mutt – or a fleet of mutts – on our way, oh god..." Helen's pale face seemed to lose what little colour it once held. "What are we going to do?"

"The lever above your head," I said, indicating to it.

"What?" Helen looked up. "Vigil, we can't reach that, you're six foot but that's like... Sixteen foot..."

"No shit Sherlock."

"I cannot believe you just said that–"

Helen was cut off by a distance rumbling, minor vibrations bounced around below our feet before the earth released a cacophonous roar – like the bones were beasts warning us of what was to come, and then the distance vibration radiated stronger and stronger, evolving into a hostile tremor that threw Helen and I were thrown into a bed of bones and skulls. The ground was already unstable, but now it seemed ready to collapse – Helen screamed as a skull beside her levitated, and miscellaneous bones did the same. All of them levitated one by one before slotting into one giant warrior:

And a terrifying warrior it was, constructed from nothing but hollow bones – there was a solid body, structured from normal bone (although abnormally long legs, body and arms. This warrior was about thrice my height, with ribs as big as a staircase). Its skull seemed large, with barely any teeth. In its chipped hand lay a large piece of bone that was shaped so that it resembled a sword...

Or maybe it was.

"Look out!" I shouted, though I was the one in danger, as the sword launched itself toward me I pulled my body out its reach, watching as it splintered the bones I rested on with apparent ease. I'd hate to think what it could do to my bones. Helen was standing too, ducking as the blade had been swiped above her head and denting the wall behind her. The stubborn beast moved its attack back at me, the jagged part of the blade not hitting me but the solid end of it knocking me to the unstable ground.

It respectively turned to Helen, launching an attack that almost crushed her – catching a glimpse of Helen's face, her tear stained cheeks and desperate eyes turned me into some undiscovered guardian. I picked up a skull close to my left hand and flung it at the beast's own skull, smiling internally when the piece of otherwise useless bone finished at its desired destination.

A blueprint of potential mapped my mind in an instant as a relieved Helen looked at me, and an infuriated skeleton beast turned to me with the intention of ending my life. My heart froze, but as I continuously ducked powerful attacks I knew exactly how to escape this hellhole. There was a big chance both me and my ally would die, but dying trying was better than giving up.

"Helen," I gasped as a spiked sword missed me again. I considered myself lucky that this creature had a weak accuracy. "I think I've distracted it..." I leapt aside as the thing tried clubbing me again. "So you climb up on it and pull that lever down, okay?" My sentence ended with me rolling over (quite gracefully, I must say) as the creature once again decided it wanted to split my body in half. I liked making this whole battle seem effortless, but my body was starting to drench itself in sweat and fear prompted my heart to beat unbelievably fast.

Helen reluctantly did as she was told, running up to the animate, titanic skeleton and leaping up so that she had clung onto its hip – the creature didn't seem to notice, blinded by its desire to kill me rather than her. As it continued moving and pouncing Helen was shook violently, and the beast's once dodgy accuracy had repaired itself slowly; as I tried moving to avoid another blow I cried out in pain as the sword swiftly slashed its way across my back.

"Vigil!" I heard Helen cry as I was thrown head first into the bones. "I–I can't do this..."

I rolled over as the creature grabbed me and raised me off the ground so that my blood seeped over, dyeing the bones of its fingers a cerise colour. I could see Helen clinging onto one of the creature's ribs, as if they were monkey bars in a playground. She was so close to the lever – and yet she seemed so unconfident, hanging and restraining her tears. "Jump for it Helen – dying trying is better than dying giving up."

I didn't intend to finish my sentence, but the unintelligent creature didn't know that – it squeezed my stomach in an attempt to shut me up before raising me, probably will the intention of throwing me so harshly into the wall my skull would break, and then there was a shout. I turned to see Helen jump, barely managing to grasp onto the lever so that her weight pulled it down. There was an awkward moment where she simply dangled, one sweaty palm grasped onto the lever–

And then she fell as the wall burst into life, releasing small chunks of rock, each one overlapping the other until it became apparent that the stone wall was turning into a staircase. As Helen screamed and fell, her nasty fall was scuppered and she landed on one of the stairs, rolling down another few. The beast reacted wildly, but it was too late – one of the stairs swept its way under the monster's legs like a soft wave, but with more devastating concequences. The large skeleton's fragile legs were snapped and the creature and I fell; it ended with an explosion of bones and I fell in the midst of it.

Despite the imminent bruise on my chest and the cuts across my back, I was going to be okay. That was a relief of its own. I turned to my ally, who was a few steps above me and rewarded her with a congratulatory smile. It seemed as if Helen had saved my life again. For somebody so vulnerable I knew my ally was a fighter from the moment I saw her. And as usual (if you don't mind me saying) I was right.

As she stood up shakily, descending the stairwell to make sure I was okay, I couldn't help but think that I couldn't be any righter.

* * *

**Guess who is back!**

**And also, on the first week in school been crammed with lots of homework? Me? No...**

**I'm so sorry for the late update. I think updates are going to go from 5 days to 10 days, maybe even two weeks if I'm ultra busy. And one week if I'm ultra inspired. And I hate mentioning them now because I hate sounding like a review whore (which I am...) but if you're reading this, please click that review button? I feel like I'm beginning to bore you all.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Who would you say the smartest tribute?_

Interview Question: What's your favourite kind of weather? I like a mild sun with a light breeze to accompany it... Snow is always fun too, until it melts.


	26. The Storm

Day Three, Night:

_"Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them."_

_— George Eliot_

* * *

**Holden Gray, District 6, 14:**

As night hit the still arena everything became so silent. The two people I had rescued lay before me, the Three girl crumpled to the ground with a bloodied face. My District partner was a mere metre or two in front of me, she lay prostrate and totally subdued, as if she were sleeping soundly. You wouldn't think she'd just been attacked by a group of mutated trees. And yet she had, and though it would've been easier to let them die so that I could've been edged towards the final twelve, though my moral compass told me to do otherwise. And how could I have let Abe die after all she had done for me?

So, with a hopeless expression and my heavy flamethrower I observed my surroundings; all the trees were blackened, burnt and dead – all green had been obliterated, all brown had been painted a charcoal black. Smoke twirled around the air like a veil, even more obscuring in the dulling light – night was approaching. A thunderstorm was coming too, only right now it was a light drizzle of water. So I stood there, prominently being able to smell and taste the concoction of cinders and rain as I looked at the two people I had saved.

Before she drifted into unconsciousness Abe had caught a glimpse of me and even smiled slowly. She was happy to see me, right? Or just happy to be rescued? I wanted to stay, to keep my District partner close and learn more about her, and yet there was her hostile ally who talked to me haughtily. She wouldn't want me in the alliance presumably, but surely she owed me a place in her group? I had saved her life. That was a good thing.

The rain glued my hair to my skull as I traced the scabby claw marks that had been drew across my face. I still remembered being attacked and almost killed by the corpse of Holden. In the arena I was constantly in danger, and it was obvious Abe and Danni were too. We'd be stronger united, certainly. But what if those two didn't realise it? What if they woke up and decided to kill me, or forced me into exile – I wouldn't put that past Dannielle, certainly.

"You think they're your allies, don't you?" A voice said to me. I took in a sharp breath and turned to me addressor, who had a voice that seemed like a violent gust of wind – supernatural and not good to approach. The Avox boy I had killed on the eve before the Games stood there; he didn't seem like the other corpses, his body seemed untouched and perfect. Yet, like a corpse, everything around him was cold and dreary; all life had waned around him. No burns or blisters corrupted his skin, but the coldness was much worse.

"I saved their life."

"And? You have some temerity Holden, assuming that they owe you their life just because you saved theirs. You hardly rushed into battle for them," the boy glanced to their unconscious bodies. "You only pressed a button and watched flames save them. Any other decent person would've surely done the same..."

"No," I protested. "No they wouldn't! Not in the Hunger Games... Not now."

I felt a maddening sensation take over my body, slowly making my mind more and more desperate. Still, the Avox boy pressed on eloquently, his voice sounding like a more violent wind than ever, almost like a hurricane. "You fool Holden, you saving them won't compensate anything for Dannielle. Why don't you kill her? I won't deny that Abe would happily take you back, but her ally will reject you despite the circumstances... She's already lost an ally. She fears losing another, and you encompass everything she hates in a person... Young, inexperienced... uninteresting. You're a fool and you know it as well as Dannielle does – Abe will take you in, she's naive."

"Shut up," I growled, trying to turn away from the creature. I was talking to a ghost – surely I was insane? And yet I couldn't just let this thing insult me.

"But you can rid Dannielle and make yourself interesting," the Avox boy had a point... If I shot the flames from my flamethrower over Dannielle's body and burnt her to a crisp I wouldn't have to worry about rejection, as I'd rid myself of my sole rejector. And then Aibileen would joyfully accept me in a fit of sadness sadness and halcyon memories. The Avox boy's words were a soliloquy of my thought – "You kill her, you watch the hovercraft take her away and you tell Abe that you had no time to save her little gem. It's so simple, all it takes is one kill and you have company and comfort. A moral dilemma it may be, but it's a logical checkmate."

I turned towards Danni, aiming my flamethrower at her and brushing my finger against the button that saved her life, preparing to press it for an opposite purpose. But that would be wrong! What would the audience think of a boy that saved someone's life, only to burn them to death afterwards? Even a Capitolian would be disgusted. Dannielle had no means of fighting or running, it would be a cold blooded murder at its finest.

"No," I said, lowering the flame thrower and turning away from the scene. Walking as far away from Dannielle and Abe as possible with a sad sigh.

"You're a fool," the spectre shouted at me, its voice releasing winds that felt as violent as any other, blowing my wet hair around and messing it further. "You're like poison Holden, dull, painful and you kill everything you talk to, everything that means something. Look at me, look at Callis, and just watch the sky every night... I vow this now, soon Abe and Dannielle will be in that sky. And who's fault will it be?"

Covering my ears and screaming out a curse word, I rushed away into the night – feeling my feet snap away brittle roots as the rain grew stronger, soaking me more and more...

* * *

**Avalynn Hiebler, District 5, 17:**

The storm had grown indescribably strong – in the shelter I had crafted (using twigs, leaves and rope) I could see the sky lighten up with powerful flashes of lightning, curtains of rain fell in front of me and the cold was biting. Good. Lets hope that the weather, the beautiful thing I liked to call science, destroyed the tributes. That would be perfect. And if the weather did I hoped one of them, their sight rendered useless by the rain, stumbled into one of my traps and met a grisly end.

How perfect were my traps? It took me a while to make even a few, but any tribute who stumbled across one would certainly die. The quickest and easiest trap I made was simply a pit one – I used the shovel (which I had protectively placed on my lap, for it was my biggest tool and weapon) to bury a large hole before using my knive to carve simple branches into deadly spikes that could slide into human flesh. Once satisfied, I allowed these sharp pieces of wood to protrude from the ground at the bottom of the pit and I camouflaged the fall with woven leaves.

And this rain blinded tributes further, which was perfect. I hoped one of them would stumble into my traps – it was an indirect kill that would immediately dwindle down the tribute numbers. Mind over matter as they said, and I couldn't help but back such a saying with valid evidence. I'd be even more joyous if a dumb Career (they were all psychopathic, stupid fools afterall) tripped onto a rather deadly tripwire. Disregarding them, others on my hitlist were – the Three girl (I was aware she was intelligent, and I wanted to be the most cerebral individual in the arena), Tarren and Leo for more personal purposes and the Nine boy because there was an enigmatic element to his mentality that made me unsubstantially dislike him. And his training score was high.

I paused as lightning illuminated the area in front of me – a field of some sort, blurred by the rain, and after a fifty metre walk there was the saturnine forest that provided more than enough shelter. I, however, didn't trust such a forest – it was a kind of forest mother and father wouldn't like me to wander in, one where evil witches and big bad bears roamed. And yet its shelter was a bit of a candy house – there was no real shelter in the Hunger Games, not unless you made it yourself.

And then I heard something fall in the forest and a creature screamed out in pain at that very moment – a cannon fired in the distance. Or was it thunder? I paused, my shaky hands huddling my long legs closer to my body as I pondered. Was it the trap I thought it was, had it killed a tribute? I couldn't properly tell without surmising, and impatience was slowly gnawing away at me. After considering my options and pondering, I crawled out of my shelter and ventured into the rain.

As soon as I was out of my shelter the rain soaked me from head to toe, it barely took a nanosecond and every inch of flesh was drenched – as if the Gamemakers were hauling buckets of water from the sky instead of droplets of rain. I ignored my cold, tremulous body. I should've expected the elements to be used against me, and complaining would only lose me those precious sponsors who gave in the money for such valuable gifts. If they sent in more money I could make even more intricate and complex traps.

"Go on Ava," I muttered to myself, so lowly the microphones couldn't detect my words. "You can do it."

The rain soaked over my glasses as I charged across the field, feeling mud squelch beneath my feet and seep into my sneakers (which had been crafted from a thin material. I wouldn't have been surprised if they withered away completely by the end of the first week). The streams of rain formed puddles that were captured by my glasses, so I occasionally had to wipe those away; that, along with my vision already being somewhat disabled by the thick rain, was a nuisance.

Eventually I penetrated the forest and the rain became droplets and drizzles that had fought through the canopy above. Though the rain had stopped attacking me I could still feel the chill from outside, its presence more apparent than ever in the abnormal, bitter warmth of the forest. I trudged past dying leaves and jutting roots, being careful to step over a rope I myself had crafted – it was designed as a tripwire. The unlucky person to stand on it would find themselves impaled in the head, chest or stomach, depending on their height. It was subtle, as if it appeared to be one of the roots beneath it. Good. If that didn't kill a tribute my time was wasted.

But that wasn't the trap I was interested in, that trap took more than mere hours, it took half a day if anything! It was the best thing I had ever invented using only natural resources, even my parents would be proud. After half a mile of walking I looked at what seemed like a wall of wood lay on the floor, seemingly as useless as scrap rubbish.

And then I walked to a tree, where a rope was concealed. With one gigantic tug the wall of wood ascended to reveal a gory mess beneath it – whatever it killed had brown fur and crushed antlers, and now that it had been lifted it became obvious why this piece of scrap was so deadly. It had been pieces of wood all tied together, with out of place but deadly spikes surgically attached. Whoever walked in the proximity triggered the trap to send the deadly wall down at the victim and crush him or her, leaving them as a boneless pile of blood, mangled flesh and intestines. Whilst I didn't kill a tribute I had exterminated an animal, and that was evidence that such a trap was deadly.

Poor deer. Pun intended

Now that the trap had been raised again I did one last security (and I use this term loosely) check to ensure the trap was perfectly deadly and prepared to kill, stabilised it, and grabbed the mangy mess of deer. It had probably tried to get the apple I had placed underneath my beautiful invention, which was a ploy to lure tributes. It had died trying to gets its dinner and now, because of its pivotal stupidity, I was the one who had dinner.

Think of all the food you'd be thrown upon when you were delivered back to the Capitol Ava. It made every unsatisfying meal so much more satisfying.

* * *

**Cardinal Volke, District 9, 16:**

I lay flat on the soily floor as splashes of rain that had somehow entered the thick forest dribbled down on my head. It was cold, and my head still ached like no other – I had only consumed alcohol once in my life, and waking up the next morning was a feeling that was akin to this one, only less bloody. The rain dampened my matted hair so that it stuck to my scalp and a river of rain water and melded blood began to run in front of me. Blood. Blood was always fun, but it was bad when it was my own. Still, a smile lit on my face and I shakily grabbed the power to stand despite my topsy-turvy vision.

Yes. Perfect. Cardinal was up again. I still felt my skull scream in agony, but pain was fun. Pain was good. It told me that this whole killing tributes thing was going to be a challenge, and I embraced challenges with an open heart, and a begrimed soul. After spitting out some more blood, and one more tooth that had unstabily clung onto my gums, I walked on. I had my canines, the teeth that were designed to tear into meat and flesh. They were all I needed. Still, I sorely felt defeated. Leo and Tarren had it easy, and next time I'd strike back more strong and powerful than ever before.

The stupid bitch had thrown the suitcase beside me, which I could clearly see despite my somewhat unfocused vision. A small corner of it was stained with the blood that my skull released, and as Tarren had thrown it the whole thing had been forced open – its contents spilt over the floor, vials sparkling with beads of rain, containing acids and chemicals I had no idea about, but regardless they'd be good to add to my arsenal, they'd benefit my plans for torture.

I'd use them on the two people that dared tried to defeat me, I thought as I rushedly grabbed handfuls of the saturated vials and stuffed them unorganisedly back into the case; once that chore had been done I slammed the briefcase closed, shakily lifted it off the floor and continued staggering forwards, still permitting time for my aching muscles to adjust and strengthen. For brief measure (for I knew that though I was a predator there were individuals out there who liked to think they could hunt me) I rummaged into my jacket, which had thankfully kept me warm as rain leaked onto me, and took out a large knife that looked bursting with desire. Desire to kill.

Whilst I waved the thick knife in front of me I fantasised. What to do with Tarren and Leo? With the former I'd tie her up and slowly gouge her eyes out until they lay beside her, half crumpled in bloody pools. Then I'd pour acid into her mouth until her tongue disintegrated into bloody, muscular manner. If she was still alive I'd proceed to stab her ally anywhere I could, I'd draw out his intestines and open up his head so that his brain was revealed – and yes, he'd scream and lament, and every note of his pain would hurt Tarren much more than I physically could. Yes. That would be perfect. I chuckled at such a thought, I just needed a perfect ending... Decapitation. That was always a good climax.

"Three blind mice, three blind mice..." I briefly paused, though I felt myself tremble with excitement as I heard a child sing and play. What a fool, and what a naïve pastime to commit during the Hunger Games. Still, an effeminate, childish voice continued to sing sweetly "See how they run, see how they run." I sung the rest of the song with the little girl, though my voice was more sonorous and much more gravelly. "They all ran after the farmer's wife, who cut off their tails with a carving knife, did you ever see such a thing in your life..."

The girl ended the song with the eponymous title, the last melody sweet and gloomy, it hung in the air for a few more seconds as I wondered what kind of tribute she was. She knew I was around, I sung loudly just to panic and unhinge her – though she was distant I knew she was close enough for me to hunt and kill. But who could she be? The youngest tribute in the arena was fourteen year old Holden, but he was a boy whose voice was close to breaking. There was Elise, but she was supposedly dead? She was certainly dead. I saw her face in the sky.

"Three blind mice, three blind mice..." But the little girl wasn't running for her life. She was singing again, growing closer and closer with each syllable sweetly lilting from her mouth. I think I knew who it was... But it surely couldn't be her. She was dead. She had died only three days ago, I took her life. And yet the sweet yet heart pounding voice was obviously hers. Clutching the knife tighter I scanned the whole area, looking for any face with those wide blue eyes, and those golden tresses that used to sail down her back... And the knife that had been violently shoved down her throat. Even though the voice was so audible it could've been only metres away from me I could see no face. I continued scanning and spinning desperately, but the voice was like light ... Everywhere I turned it was always there, albeit faint; there was only a melancholy hint of it.

"See how you run, see how you run..."

See how you run? What a fitting change of lyrics. The song's tempo suddenly became more dragging, each note seemed to take forever to end; a purposeful device to increase the tension. And what tension it was! – Though I tried to remain sordid about this whole fiasco my heart did beat that little faster, my pulse went faster and my being shook lightly. This would be the first time I've ever been mildly frightened, it would seen. But I wouldn't succumb to this strange emotion inside me. Never.

"You killed a daughter, a future wife..."

I felt my grip on the knife compress even more as I was confounded by how the voice was reflected around me, almost as if the Gamemakers loved seeing me frozen in fear. That lyric change was intended for guilt, I was sure of it. Had they not assumed I was a psychopath yet? Guilt was an emotion I had killed alongside my father. And if a genetically cloned Elise was the one singing those notes it would be ironic – had she the chance she'd have slaughtered anyone with a future.

"I'll cut you up with a carving knife!"

That lyric edit wasn't sung. It was screamed, howled furiously into my ear right behind me. Luckily, with flawless skill and precision, I had expected such a thing. I cackled and turned around to see the dilated pupils of the wide, empty eyes that belonged to a dead Elise; she possessed no wounds, her visage perfect, too perfect to exist. Her body so delicate and frail, only for me to violate again. I jammed the knife right into Elise version two's heart and felt her life go with warm, beautiful blood...

"Do you know what it's like to take a life?" The mechanical ending tone faded and the girl slumped, being murdered at my hand for a second time. Still, that wasn't the real Elise – a muttated, more flawless version. I always remembered Elise being adorable, but as I observed her face truly, with shining hair pooling around her, I noticed a beauty the Gamemakers had added to her. She looked asleep and perfect, only ruined by the dark red dot on her chest...

The Gamemakers wanted to plague me with guilt. Something they'd never achieve. They could starve me, tire me, hurt me and even intimidate me, but they could never make me feel guilty. I laughed loudly and insanely just to let them know I hated them and they did not add any feeling into my apathetic mind. Where Elise's sweet voice sung the air was replaced by my raucous laughter.

No one was safe. No one deserved my mercy.

And to prove it I raised my foot and stomped it down so harshly onto the girl's face her robotic skull caved in.

That was certainly sordid.

* * *

**Petunia Hines, District 11, 16:**

For someone who usually looks on the bright side of life, I never expected myself to be in such an awkward position. Curled up in the middle of the room in a strange foetal position, holding my knees to my stomach with one hand and holding a knife in my second one. Were the Gamemakers just messing around, or was there really a psycho killer somewhere out there? That wasn't a good prospect, but was the prospect even one that existed? I took time to regain my wits, tremulously standing before wearily approaching the window. Nothing but verdant grass lay in front of me, illuminated by a bolt of lightning as rain practically flooded the arena. Who would want to go outside in that storm?

I jumped and even let out a scream as the phone behind me sporadically threw itself into life, bleeping and vibrating threateningly. I knew who was behind that line; that same old raspy voice that would only taunt and terrorise me. Feeling disgusted and full of fret I immediately moved over to the desk and severed the phone from its with with my knife, though my knife tore through the plastic with ease the phone seemed immortal...

It still rung.

The Gamemakers were finding more and more ways to limit my options. In a moment of desperation and fear I moved the phone to the side of my head to listen to more threats.

"Listen jerk, I have something to say–"

"You haven't been talking much Petunia. Only crouching in the corner and staring out at me through the window... Fun fact, we made eye contact once but you were still blinded. I made sure you couldn't see me. I dare you to look outside Petunia and try find me again," with a whimper I rushed to the window, pressing my hand against the glass (which was driven horribly cold by the horrible wind outside). Still, there was no-one there. "I can see you right now, with your tidy hair – untouched by the elements, and those naïve, wide eyes."

"Why me?" My voice felt empty, almost as if I were saying the words to a god. "I haven't hurt anyone... I'm just a girl lost and trying to find my ally... there's sixteen tributes out there... Why? Why me?"

"Because you were the one stupid enough to go to the house as if it were a sanctuary. You were the one airheaded enough to answer the phone. You're not dead yet Petunia, if you're going to give up I can just get in and kill you right now."

No Petunia. Though hot tears started leaking out of my eyes I gathered the strength to project a few words. "I am not giving up. I have barricaded the door. I have a knife... And I think I can get out of here."

"Why would I break through a door when there's glass?"

"I'll run out... I can run fast," I said, moving towards the door.

"You're on your last legs Petunia, no matter how quick those legs are. Wanna know something interesting? There's two Careers... They're about one hundred and fifty metres away from here and just like you they have noticed the light on in the office and they're obliviously ambling toward you. Either you go out and get killed by me or you stay in and get killed by them." There was another pause. Maybe my mind was playing horrible tricks, but I thought that I could hear the creaking of floorboards upstairs. Trying hard to hold on to the dissolving composure I had I moved away to my barricade and toward the staircase, knife in hand just in case there was anyone upstairs. "So Petunia, what is it?"

Then the toilet flushed. Upstairs a toilet actually flushed – I had used the toilet once today, almost too scared to walk back downstairs to a potentially ringing phone. Though it was covered in dirt and limescale the thing was still able to flush, as shown just now. And toilets didn't flush magically, they only did it when a human hand made them do so. The tears stopped now, replaced with pure adrenaline – I grabbed one of the chair's that made up a component of my barricade and flung it to the side.

"I'm choosing neither."

"Good, because neither was going to happen!"

The words puzzled me, but I realised what was message the person down the line was trying to convey when the window in the office – the one that was visible to my left – smashed and crumbled into bits of glass as a black gloved fist hurled its way into the room, stretching and unstretching its fingers as heavy rain began to attack the warm room. One howl of wind, one scream from me, and I darted up the stairs as a hooded figure vaulted over the empty air where glass once blocked.

My heart was pounding as my feet quickly moved, one in front of the other with lightning speed, up the stairs. The Gamemakers – as I had conjectured before – really were trying to limit my options until there was one left: death. I couldn't let that happen, I had the drive to live. As I turned a corner into the bland bedroom I realised that, as small as it may be, I still had a chance. Doing what felt wisest I locked the bedroom door and surveyed the colourless room around me –

No way out. Only a closet and chaste decor. What was there to do? My limbs all felt spasmodic and incontrollable, my breaths uncontrolled and struggled, I felt gripped and seized by a mild panic attack as the very person I was terrified of, the one that said those vile things to me, pounded the door I locked. I turned, very slowly, with teary eyes as I struggled to concieve a rational plan. The air was pregnant with dying hope, and then it struck me as I saw the French doors (and the only pretty things in this tasteless room) – there was a balcony. And a roof. What if I could get onto that and escape through the back. That way I'd escape both killer and the apparent Careers who were on the prowl and heading towards this house.

With one kick the door behind me flew of its hinges and smashed into the wall beside me. I didn't even turn to look at my assailant; it looked too nightmarish, the glimpse of that hooded figure alone told me it was the stuff of nightmares. One packeted spray of energy sent me towards the French doors, one miniscule bit of hope. I felt myself journey so close to escaping until the scruff of my neck was roughly grabbed, I was pulled back and then released-

Just like the fist that had been hurled into the window, I was hurled through the glass doors. My body flew through a weak wall of solid matter, and then I felt the air and rain hit me with sharp daggers of piercing glass – all of it hit me at once, beating my senses mercilessly. Without a sound I fell to the floor, feeling cuts on my arms and face that became wet with water and blood.

Though it was too late I still tried struggling, my hands grasped for glass littered ground only to be aggrivated further as the sharp shards dug into my fleshy palms. I choked with a sob and then felt the looming figure of my killer behind me.

"No..." I continued scrambling, forcing myself to be unaware of the glass the kept slashing itself into my body. I cried out wildly before feeling something sharp stab its way into the exposed area of my back that lay between my shoulders. My lips released a scream of pain, though that didn't defer my killer – it didn't omit any evils, it only rewarded me with another sharp stab in the same area, though it hurt much more once it sliced itself through a recent wound. I released one last scream and then slumped, too weakened to express or say anything. This was it. It was over.

The looming figure picked me up in its arms, almost fondly, as if I were its infant and it was going to soothe me into the eternal sleep the pain made me beg for. I looked up at a black veil that obscured its eyes, let out a weak breath whilst golden memories played through my mind, and then the thing launched me. I didn't even scream as I was lashed off the balcony, I just spent my last thought – and I spent it well. I spent it on my family.

I knew that out there was a better world, sometime, somewhere, and I was going to wait for them there.

* * *

**Astrid Evans, District 1, 18:**

It seemed to appear out of nowhere. Archie and I had stumbled across an old house and decided to investigate, though to our chagrin the whole thing was barricaded. While I paced the perimeter of the house, grumbling and cursing, Archimedes decided to try and infiltrate it by force. And in the short space of one minute he had charged into house to look for its obvious inhabitant and I stood there in awe as a girl hit the ground.

The sound of her brittle body smashing against the pavement grotesquely coincided with the sound of a cannon. I stood there, in awe, looking at the jets of blood that had shot out of her body in small streams, flowing in trickles around the strong pathway that had destroyed her. The dark hair and slightly tall figure immediately told me it was the Eleven girl. Owch. Even though the death made me wince, that was one last competitor out of the way. So I tartly shrugged and looked up to the murderer.

I expected to be smiling at Archimedes, but I instead found myself glancing at something that was coldly staring down back at me: I couldn't see its eyes, only dark wisps of material that covered its face. It took a brief moment to acknowledge me before turning as there was an almighty crash and yell.

I knew who that voice was, Archimedes. That thing, that shadowy creature that had killed the District Eleven girl wasn't a tribute. Though it seemed by all means and purposes a clothed human, I couldn't feel a scrap of humanity in it (and this was coming from a ruthless Career). Archimedes shouted out again, and though I was exasperated, soaking wet and tempted to let him die I felt lit by valour and bravery; in that moment I rushed past the broken doorway, up the stairs and into a room which seemed unfamiliar to me.

The room in question seemed dull at first impression, but I had little time to absorb my surroundings – all I noticed was the lightning quick motion of Archimedes fighting the demon in front of me. His sword continuously lashed against a steel hook that protruded from the creature's supposed arm, both instruments smashed against each other until the creature instead decided it wanted to turn on me–

As it ran forward to either tackle or stab I barely had time to register its powerful movements. I didn't consider using one of my many blades against it, I instead quickly grabbed the small mirror on the wall to my right, encased in intricate, ovular ivory. Using the mirror as my sheild I defensively thrust the object in front of me as the creature smashed into the glass head first, taking the blow. staggering, but barely being affected. I yelped and lashed out my blade with the creature's, striking blade against blade in a similar manner to Archimedes' battle.

Whilst my right hand repeatedly attacked I used my left to occupy myself with dual blades, using such an opportunity so that I could use my more concealed blade to stab the creature – despite its lack of weapons the creature was quick. Trained like a Career, I couldn't help but notice. It struck in the manner of snake and then defended itself like how a stag would use its antlers. I continued smashing my blades at it, though, in a moment of distraction and worry, my opponent decided to think a little more out of the box. And so it tackled me.

Tackled me. Kind of like a rugby player, it hugged at my knees so I was thrown into the wall. I felt both of my knives be torn out of my hand, and then my back crashed into the wall so that I slid down – before my rushed vision regained itself, I heard Archimedes charge at the creature. There were more melodramatic battle cries, the sound of metal meeting metal, and then silence; I glanced up to see the creature quitting the room, fleeing I presume, as Archimedes stood over and looked at me with his strong eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, my back just feels like its aged sixty years, that's all," I sighed as I stood up with an aching back. It wasn't damaged, not even bruised, it had just taken a beating. As I tried to force myself out of my slugged position Archimedes gripped my hand and yanked me up to my feet.

"This is the Hunger Games."

"What's your point?" Archimedes said with a sly smile.

"We're independant tributes here; to each their own," I explained.

"While we're allies I think we're entitled to help each other," Archimedes said. Was that why I felt it compulsory to aid my ally? If I never would he have been thrown off the balcony like the District Eleven girl was? The world of possibilities was strange, and a world I liked to keep my mind away from. Instead I looked at Archimedes.

"You can't always stop me from falling."

"No, but I can help you up."

There was a pause as the stormy winds went through our hair, prompting a very brief mutual silence. Archimedes' lexical prowess had warmed my heart, only that little bit, and I was tempted to smile, tempted to appreciate the salvation that I was granted; but what a foolish idea that would be. I wouldn't want that. Words aside, there would be a point where I (or more ideally, Archie) will fall and be unable to get up. Not every fall is followed with a recovery. And to top the milkshake of foolishness with some creamy irony it didn't help that Archimedes was a manipulative, compulsive liar.

"I hate you Archimedes."

"Nice to see your old self back," Archimedes chuckled. "Never fooled, are you? Well... You are, just not to the extent of the other two. I think they'd appreciate this house, despite the fact there seems to be smashed glass in every direction. Nothing a bit of spring cleaning can't do, right?" Archimedes smiled and removed his walky talky, listening to cracks of jarred signal before we heard Luster's voice–

"Hello?"

"I have directions to a house Luster. I've grown tired of our Career camp; it's exposed to the elements, horribly obvious and I was put off by the muttated worms. Time to relocate," Archimedes smiled again. "So you and Melanthe pack up, and don't whine like a bitch at the weight our supplies are. Just get on with it. This place has a kitchen, a bathroom and even a piano–"

The last word converted Luster. "Got it."

And then, as the communication was cut off, Archimedes enthusiastically ran downstairs. Commencing his 'spring cleaning' I guessed. And so I was left horribly alone with a sore back as an outside wind messed up my air, its sad howl making the dreamy room seem sombre and haunted. Maybe, if ghosts existed, the dead girl who lay broken was sweeping past me, through my hair and my soft, goosebump filled skin, before leaving this world forever.

* * *

**I finally got rid of another! (*guzzles serotonin to supress feelings of guilt and anxiety*) I had plans for this one, but sometimes arrangements need to be cancelled! ... I apologise :( I have many plans for her murderer though, whomever it is ;)**

**Oh yeah... I noticed... This story has lots of follows but barely any favourites? I'm almost OCD in the sense I can't bare disproportion... Someone relieve it and click that favourite button, if you please ;)**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: What did you think about Petunia?_

Interview Question: Do you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert?


	27. The Piano

Day Four, Morning:

_Time heals griefs and quarrels, for we change and are no longer the same persons._

_— Pascal_

* * *

**Veronica Vesna, District 7, 17:**

I felt her go yesterday. As soon as the cannon hit the air the already blustering weather seemed to be followed with an extra layer of shaking wind; my parents always believed in god, but I never saw the fuss in him. Why would I worship an invisible person when designers like Maria LeDaine and Charles Vesper existed? Yet, maybe, if that weirdo existed, he had allowed Petunia one last message to me. Reed told me I was being illogical when I expressed such thoughts, though her shock at seeing Petunia's face in the sky contrasted my sad acceptance.

I wanted to cry melodramatically – to curse in the rain and stomp and scream, to go feral and unbelievably angry, but such a notion was totally unnatural. Instead, I cried. I never wept; I just thought of past memories, of the fun and games Petunia and I shared while in training (when we really shouldn't have been training). If we both didn't get so distracted, if I didn't convince Petunia to continue doing trivial activities, would she still be alive? Such a thought sent solo teardrops down my face, but never more. Despite the few tears, my tears were always constant. Just like the pain Petunia's family would feel at her loss. I repeated my generic thoughts and wished one last time that she left the earth in the most painless way possible.

Since the second night, the night we were attacked, we had stayed in the woodshed and lived on whatever we could. After witnessing a reincarnated zombie try to murder me I was somewhat scared to venture anywhere else, and the woodshed was a sanctuary to me. Still, I thought of the blood soaked axe that lay on the ground outside (missing a corpse, strangely enough) and the jagged cuts on my back, which still stung powerfully.

Reed and Micah hung in the doorway like an unwanted stench. They knew I required my own space, yet insisted they stayed close to me as if I were a mental patient on the verge of suicide. Still, it was a slight reassurance to know my allies care – though their profuse whispers and mutterings annoyed me. Did they know how I felt? Maybe one day they would. There'd only be one winner. One of my allies would face the pain of losing the other, even if the pain was very brief.

Why were I thinking these thoughts? What was wrong with me – Violet, you aren't rational and you certainly aren't this pessimistic. I repeated that thought before shrinking into a ball. I knew from the moment I stepped onto the train that would drag me to the Capitol I would die, but I promised myself that I wouldn't succumb to the darkness and despair the Games usually held. No, I had to be more indomitable than that. I couldn't repress the pain inside me; it was eating me and changing me. So how could I release it?

With tears. And so I cried – and when I say cried I totally wept a river, my eyes now fecund and releasing the tears. The Capitol wasn't going to change me; I was a crybaby. How could I pretend I was strong and apathetic? Crying was a fashion in its own right; it released how I felt, let people know who I was (totally less stylist though, and kind of social suicide). Reed seemed to sojourn further outside like my tears were explosives, but Micah moved closer.

"Look... I know we can't assemble Micah's angels..."

"Go away."

Micah seemed unperturbed. "I mean, we lost an agent and all, but two can be as bad as three, right? Hell, I could be an angel, I might not be effeminate, but I sure as hell have a curvaceous body, won't you agree?" He responded positively when I laughed through my strained sobs, before crouching down next to me, ignoring the damp floor of the shed. The way his hand moved around my shoulder so healing and reassuringly kind of unnerved me. But the animal warmth Micah provided was what I needed. Petunia wouldn't want me to be miserable – she'd rather her funeral be a party than a weeping competition. Crying on the ground was the equivalent of spitting on her grave.

"One day things will be better Micah."

Micah seemed taken aback, though he smiled at my words. "Everything is always better when there's beer. How about I try and ferment some cheap one and we can all get nice and drunk? Or anything you want? C'mon firecrotch, we can't stay here forever. We need to have some fun... Are you with me?"

"But Reed..."

"Is a hermit and a prude, but I think there's always some fun in converting the innocent."

I laughed shakily again before standing up – and regretting rising so hastily. My legs felt like they were ridden with Arthur-Isis, or whatever that old man with those bone problems had.

"Okay Micah, its time to show the audience our inner party animals!"

After the horrible storm yesterday the sky seemed to want to redeem itself; there was no visible sign of any tempest, I noted as I walked out. Reed stood close by, smiling fragilely when Micah and I exited the small shed. She then picked up her rucksack and turned, leading the way. There were a lovely temporary silence; Reed's lips quivered for that brief second, tempted to slip out words. She gained her composure as she walked, pretended to admire the fauna and flora we passed, and then released her words:

"Nice to see you're back with us Violet."

"Any time Reed."

"I reckon we should forage for berries, something useful like that. Or you two can hunt... Just please make sure I don't see any cruelty inflicted to innocent animals. Seriously though Violet – a whole day of recovery? That is pathetic," Reed was still her same bitter self, though I knew she was a great, caring person underneath her facade. "That was precious time. We could've been killed – if I die you guys shouldn't do anything too irrational, or I'll kill you. Don't take a day to recover, heck, don't take an hour. We're in the Hunger Games, we should be used to deceased people by now... That's the way things are... The Hunger Games isn't beer and skittles–"

"That would be nice–" Micah grinned, his eyes alight with mischief as he slid his hands through his messy hair to make it even more tidier, or to make it even more messy (which he did quite successfully).

"Shut up Micah."

* * *

**Melanthe Hathaway, District 2, 17:**

Something sudden awakened me. That same old nightmare I kept having since the second day in the arena – that District Eleven boy lying on the ground with his innards wrenched out of their shell. Only last night things were different; his District partner featured with him in last night's dream. I only caught one glimpse of her before she was stolen away by the hovercraft; whole body tenuous and blood covered. Eyes waxed open in horror and shock. I may not have murdered her, but her death still shook me to the core.

Beside me in a tangle of sheets was Archimedes. He seemed so sound and happy, dreaming the day away in his snug sheets – to me, despite the insulation the cotton wreaths supposedly provided, I felt horribly cold. And I was clothed too. The only heat I felt was the heat from my District partner's body. Tentatively and stealthily, I moved the sheets aside so that they covered Archie's bare body, I moved out of the bed (making sure to avoid a snoozing Astrid, who grumbled on the floor). Where was Luster? He must have been somewhere.

And then I paused, somewhere in the background was music. Not the music I had been forcedly accustomed too (like the Capitol anthem every night) – good music. Those kind of melodies that melded together, shifting into one but yet being divided, kind of like humanity itself. Some notes were high, some were deep, and all were melancholy. Yet, despite the misery in the song I could detect something in the occasional note. Hope. That was enough to make me shift my feet, moving towards the beautiful sound like a child being lured by the Pied Piper's flute. I walked down the stairs before standing at the doorway of the main room (or office) of the house we had moved into.

The curtains were drawn shut, the morning breeze making them drift like waves in a mild storm. I knew why they were drawn; the windows were smashed, and Archimedes wanted to cover up such an eyesore. I noticed a desk, ridded of its contents in order to support the mounds of Career supplies. A fire was lit and it illuminated Luster's face as his fingers weaved through the air, pressing the notes so swiftly and elaborately. He barely noticed me; he was lost in his own world of music and madness.

I cleared my throat and Luster jumped.

"It assures me that you're so attentive," I said sarcastically, before adopting a more serious tone. "So, what is that?"

"Well... Piano."

"You're good."

"Not really," Luster smiled, snapping the lid behind him. "It's not that hard, you could sit beside me and I could teach you? I bet I could get you to my level in a day."

"Me? My fingers are as stiff as my grandmother's," I snorted. "I wish I could play an instrument... It would be cool. Especially guitar – all those cool solos and that!" I moved towards the nearest seat; a office chair that graciously allowed my aching body to sink into it. "Anyway, what was that you were playing? What's it called?"

"I call it the quadruple sextet."

"What?"

"A sextet is like six pieces of music... Only quadrupled. I didn't know what twenty-four was in technical terms so I vouched for that name," Luster said, smiling frailly when he noticed my expression. "Yeah, twenty four like the Hunger Games... I was planning a good song before I was reaped and – though it'd probably lead to my death – I've expanded it... I saw a different story, a different pain in every tribute. I'm putting it down into music and then using my prior work as the climax," Luster re-opened the lid of the piano, moving his hands more aggressively on the keys as he demonstrated his 'climax' – which was good, definitely, yet there was a soul missing to it. "I just need a final few notes. This musician's block is indescribably frustrating, I can whip up a melody to summarise each tribute in five seconds and yet the ending is... It's..."

Luster expressed his resentment by jamming his fists down onto the keys, which let out a musical shriek.

"It'll be in your head somewhere – or your heart, but the heart is designed for other purposes, not feeling, so I don't know why the hell people say that," I laughed as I sat beside Luster on his pianist's stool. "That beautiful melody you just played, what was that?"

Luster glanced at me. "It was made for the District Two girl."

"You got that vibe from me? ... If only my personality was as beautiful as the music... Am I that depressing?"

"Every soul is beautiful, I guess... Everyone has something to say," Luster drifted off back into his music, playing those same notes over and over again. "This song is like the question I feel whirring around your head over and over again... Why do people repeat those same mistakes? Why do people feel a sadistic need to hurt others... To destroy them? Why are we so stupid?"

"You know me very well," I sighed. "Out of inquisitiveness... What the hell did you write for Archie?"

Immediately, almost robotically, Luster's hands switched – tempo, melody and pitch were all completely polarised into a jazz tune. It was cunning, sparkling and fast paced, fun to dance to. I laughed at such a tune, I could even see a phantom of a smirk playing on Luster's smooth cheeks as he played the song – to describe it at its best, it was like something you'd expect to play in an old, cheesy detective movie. Those black and white ones CapitolTV played on weekends.

"Who is playing the piano?" Astrid walked in looking dishevelled and curious. I playfully moved over, grabbed her hand and started dancing – my movements were comic and exaggerated, of course, but Astrid still seemed as taken aback as ever. Though after the initial shock she found the whole ordeal innocuous, and began to laugh and dance along. "What the hell inspired this fun mood?"

"Luster wrote this song about Archimedes!" I smirked. The One boy continued playing his notes as Astrid and I moved and danced along, spinning, twirling and sometimes leaping. If only the Games were always like this, so fearless and free. Like an actual game.

"It's pretty fitting," Astrid said breathlessly, soon being interrupted as a tall figure rested at the doorway.

"Why the hell am I hearing music and laughter? Are you stooping so low as to having fun? How efficiently you divide your recreational hours," Archimedes scowled at us all; all music and candour died with his glare and commanding tone that overpowered the light music. He scanned the room (his cold eyes resting on me a second longer than anyone else) before he turned slowly, glanced at Luster, and frowned. "Why are you playing that wretched thing? Did you ever learn anything in school – here's a quote for you – 'All art is quite useless.' You processed that? Good. We're both going hunting today."

Luster wordlessly obeyed; he closed the piano, stood up silently and submissively and trailed out with Archimedes, leaving Astrid and I alone to soak up the awkwardness. That indomitable, great power I saw in Luster as he played was suddenly gone, it died. I didn't know why, but I wanted it back again.

* * *

**Aibileen Karpis, District 6, 16:**

Just when everything seemed to make sense, sense was lost.

I saw his face. He stood there, he looked at me. The younger boy who I had acquainted myself with, whose death I thought would arrive on the first day of the Games. And as I was getting asphyxiated by a sturdy, live root, I saw him. He stood there valiantly with twinkling eyes, embers spouting to and fro and rendering the infinite trees around me as useless, black limbs, burnt and broken matter. I had communicated what I had seem to Dannielle as we recovered from the attack; a purple bruise circled my neck, whereas her face was generally cut and bruised.

"So you're telling me that Holden saved us?"

I nodded.

"Oh Abe, don't be so stupid..." Dannielle gathered supplies that had been dropped in the scuffle with a sigh. "I have nothing against Holden... Disregarding the fact he's tiny and almost useless... But really, him saving us? A knife couldn't save us, if a Career was given the option to save us it probably couldn't! What makes you think a twelve–" She looked at my moving hands. "Okay, sorry, fourteen year old could save us? I saw fire too, but it was probably a Gamemaker or a blessful accident that had saved us."

'Why was he there?' I asked in sign.

"Well..." Rationality gave Dannielle all the answers. "He was probably running from the fire that started all of this. See, logical conclusion. Even if he was there he couldn't have started those flames... I know there were 'magical' gems last year, but the Gamemakers won't repeat the same stunt, how would he be able to control flames so expertly?"

'A bomb?'

"No!" Dannielle vociferated. "Certainly not a bomb! I know that they were in the fountain but if he threw a bomb we'd be smithereens, little chunks smeared all over this ashen floor. Come on Abe, be sensible here. Do you really think a bomb did that? Don't let your kindness interfere with your common sense."

I bowed my head and shook it.

But deep inside I had to be right. Holden wasn't the epitomy of chivalry and masculinity, but deep inside I knew he'd not let me be crushed. He'd do something. And Dannielle still hadn't found an explanation to the random flames which happened to save our lives. I knew it was connected to Holden. Dannielle may be the brighter, more intelligent person out of us two, but she was wrong in this case. I just knew she was.

I stood on a burnt chunk of stump. Everywhere I looked there was an all encompassing blackness, covered in a map of rain water that had soaked the vulnerable area around me. In my mouth I could taste soot. This whole scene was one of a burnt forest, and yet, suspiciously, the flames hadn't swarmed across the whole forest like a virus; they had presumably obliterated certain trees, all of the trees close to us. The very same trees that had attempted to kill Danni and I. My clothes were in an ambivalent stage; they didn't know whether they were wet or dry, and thus weighed me down irritatingly. Where my bangs were instead lay strands of ruined hair; some crisp and burnt, some soaked, all of them overgrown and wild.

My ally sat next to me, offering what looked like a wet sandwich. "Do you want it?"

I nodded and ate it, though it was soggy and certainly not glamorous it was a meal that appeased my roaring hunger. I barely had time to sit and think like this; I was usually too busy walking, worrying and surviving – I had to be attentive and not get lost in thought. But moments like these, moments lost in thought, were perfect. I thought of my family back at home... Grandpa would probably be watching the television screen, telling me to 'give 'em the ol' one two!' while my dad watched on in mute anxiety and my mother sat alone in her bedroom, depressed and tearful. I'd like to pretend they were cheering me on and proudly watching me leap over every new obstacle without any worries, but the Hunger Games weren't that light. This wasn't a movie, a death scene wasn't so quick and pointless... Life was finite, death quite the opposite. Real people, real children were dying all around me. The Eleven girl had only just died last night.

"Do you want to know what story my dad always told me?" Dannielle asked

"What story?"

"He said that years ago, a hundred or so, there was a young girl in the Hunger Games. She was from District Eleven, just like the one who died last night. She was agile, quick and strong but that still wasn't enough... You know that twelve year olds never win. She got stabbed in the stomach by a spear," I winced. That wasn't the nicest story to rock your child asleep to. "But... The girl's ally, an older girl, avenged her... And rocked her to sleep in her arms, and buried her with the flowers. They only knew each other for a day and yet they shared that profound connection, weird huh? If I died, I'd want to be sent off nicely."

I nodded.

"I don't look down upon you Abe. You know that right?" Dannielle smiled before looking around the area and standing. "I don't want you to die anyway... We better find somewhere more sheltered before the afternoon sun hits. Knowing the Gamemaker's horrible storm prior to this they're likely to send us a nasty bout of sunshine. I've never been too fond of the light."

* * *

**Shanae Grimes, Capitol Citizen:**

It was nice to forget about the Games – or to just not talk about them; especially when Xen and Charity had such conflicting views, but they managed to put their differences behind them. Xen knew that Charity's mother was scheming against the Capitol, just as Charity knew Xen was currently sponsoring a sadistic Cardinal Volke (who had replaced her old favourite, Blaine). There was a rainy shower that was like a weaker version of the arena's storm and we were all rushing to the nearest house, trying to find sanctity and dryness.

We skipped through the local parks; verdant grass stretched out beside us, separated by lovely, adjoining pathways of marble and luxury stones. The trees around us were rich in fruits, and the ground abundant with flowers that bunched together in colours of cerise and azure. Topiary bushes were trimmed and simple; yet delicate, being battered by the droplets of rain and feeding on the water that showered it.

"We really need somewhere, my make up is being ruined," Xen sighed as we strolled through the park. In the centre of it was a statue of President Snow, an old President who had been tortured and killed by the rebels during the second revolution. His features were well sculpted; his white hair, those narrow eyes and his serpentine features were all cleverly crafted from cold, harsh marble. Though I sympathised with him there was something about that man that worried me. It didn't matter anyway, he was dead now.

"I think I know somewhere," Charity said brightly. "It's not far from here!"

So we were lead by Charity; we left the picturesque park, though we weren't missing any intensely poetic scenery – it was marred by the rain, and beauty always became dull when you experienced it every single day. Maybe that was why a majority of people assume they're unattractive. After moving onto a pristine street, through a tidied alleyway and into another pretty street (adorned with Hunger Games decorations), Charity lead us through an alleyway and salvaged a key from her ruffled dress.

"I don't know what's in here, but mum says it's our second house," Charity explained as she slotted the key into a lock of a hidden house; this area unnerved me. Maybe it was the lack of pulchritude, or the fact this place seemed generally shady, but this didn't seem to secure. As Charity opened the door and walked into a eerily quiet, stone room I couldn't help but hold a glance with a worried Xen.

"What's in here?" Xen asked, sweeping back her green hair, which had been saturated and driven more pallid by the rude rain. I removed two of my three coats, hugged them close to my arms and ventured into the room – the only room – the house possessed. And the question my friend had asked was immediately answered. The room was spacious; weakly cluttered by well sewn spiderwebs that infiltrated every nook and cranny. But other than dirt there were more sordid things – a blonde, pretty girl who lay in the corner, bound and gagged and thrashing desperately.

"Oh god..." Charity seemed taken aback, as if she had taken a blow. I truly did, deep inside, believe she had no idea she'd stumble in on such a shocking sight.

"Why did I do this?" Xen looked revolted. She shuddered, looking down on the whimpering creature that lay before her as if it had been a trampled on dog and she were an upper class snob; whilst she found the situation somewhat harrowing, she was much more affected by the unattractiveness of the immorality in front of her than the whole questionability of the situation. She clutched her hand to her heart and turned to me. "I warned you about her Shanae! I told you I'd forget this, but was I right or wrong? Was this girl trouble or not? She comes from a disgusting Communist family for goodness sake–!"

"At least my family don't watch torture porn like the Hunger Games," Charity retorted, extremely offended by Xen's poisonous words. I stood there, feeling neutral and stunned. Obviously the situation was (excuse my usage of such a horrid word) unacceptable. What do I do? Both of my friends were doing the wrong thing, but did I still have to take sides? Would it be best to alert the authorities? I seriously considered it, but a rash Xen beat me to it.

"I'm leaving and telling my father," Xen whispered, her words like a rifle shot to Charity. "You non-conformists don't understand. We're perfectly happy in our own system and you have to ruin it. And look how extreme your measures are! Come on Shanae, the authorities need to be told about this kidnapping."

"No," Charity ran to the doorway, trying to encumber an adamant Xenia. Soon both girls were locked in a pathetic wrestling match; neither experienced fighters, they thrashed and screamed vexing comments; they gripped each others hair and ragged it mercilessly. Both girl's seemed so futile, yet irreconcilably stubborn. Confused and apprehensive, I moved towards the prisoner and began to unbind the tape and rope that subdued her. I couldn't let this go on, and yet I couldn't let Xen or anyone alert the authorities. I couldn't bare to turn my friend Charity into an orphan. That would be worse than death itself.

A feral and animalistic prisoner; one who had witnessed neither etiquette or civilisation in goodness knows how long (though her pinching thinness and wide eyes told me that she hadn't even seen a human in days) lashed me away from her distrustfully as soon as she was liberated. She leapt up and proceeded to leave, trying to fight her way past the smaller teenage girl's who were clawing at each other, her segregated, thin hair moving desperately with her–

"Move, let me go!"

"We need to go to the authorities," Xen said, throwing Charity aside but refusing access outside to the wild woman until she vowed loyalty to the Capitol. Xen repeated what she said, more desperately, as she began to battle with the woman. There was a scream, a desperate Charity and I moved forwards as another fight ended in a sickening crack–

And then the woman, the poor, hysterical woman slumped to the ground. She had hit an unfortunate part of the wall in an unfortunate angle; there was a crack and then another, more deadly indication when her skull had smashed against the sharp corner of a skirting board. She gave one last whimper; a clone to the one she had made when we first saw her in desperation. Now we witnessed her last plea, and her eyes drifted shut as blood spilt from her head; forming into a rivulet that edged its way slowly, as if it were treacle, to Xen's feet. Xen stood tall and still in panic, mouth agape as blood painted her soles.

Oh my god.

"Xen..." Charity didn't seem aggressive anymore. "That was Abigayl Carter, and she was a Capitolian scientist..."

* * *

**Tarren Keenan, District 8, 15:**

"This treehouse really isn't a good idea, I know it," Leo said, looking around the place – it was hard to explain what it was like; cozy and warm would be basic adjectives to give it an image, though that image was broken by the gaping trap door that Leo wearily shut and the piles of torn paper that lay scattered on the floor, occasionally bursting them with life when the wind permitted them to do so. I sat down with the contents of many chemicals bubbling up inside of a makeshift pot I had creating, their odorous stenches all hinting the different chemicals that were mixed in the concoction.

"Pass me the copper chloride and the potassium fluoride," I said, stormily indifferent to Leo's paranoid thoughts. "Yeah the one in the square vial – and that blue one over there," Leo indignantly handed me the vials with a parental look that reminded me of my mother when she was angry. Out of all the family memories that should be flowing through my head like a river of nostalgia, that one wasn't the one I desired. "Oh Leo, I understand that this place isn't exactly... Hidden. But I really need somewhere more insulated to make the chemical I have in mind..." I paused. "We'll leave as soon as possible, okay?"

"We can't hang out here too long," Leo said.

"Blah blah yada yada, I understand."

"So..." Leo seemed awkward, and somewhat out of his comfort zone. Maybe if we were wrestling cows or whatever strenuous, barbaric hobbies people undertook in District Ten he'd be a wheel of energy, but he was sullen and silent. He should've been grateful, since I used my extremely questionable sewing skills to reattach the fibres of his makeshift lasso together – sewing was compulsory in the schools in District Eight, though it was one of the classes that (to my immense frustration) I never got the hang of. Still, I had successfully done my job – the only problem was that Leo's lasso never had the strength or (dare I say it) heroic character it held before. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Making a chemical that would hopefully be acidic and explosive," I explained, as if I were doing something people did on a day to day basic. To my mother's rage I did often make substances that exploded, though that was a theoretic stumble or two I made. That was why – though I had a natural prowess with the sciences – I aligned myself with mathematics more. Things exploded much less when numbers were involved, unless it was an annoying physics equation to do with pressure of gas molecules, or something to do with the ions in a chemical compounds...

"Tarren, you're doing that face. That face that worries me. That face where you look murderous and curious at the same time."

"Basically I supposedly look like the psychopath who attacked us earlier," I mumbled, returning back to my duties. Whilst the very thought of him send a stunning fear through my system, I knew very well that with those chemicals I borrowed (that verb being used extremely loosely) from him I could make something that could kill him. Though he had chemicals too – I hope he didn't know how to use them. Psychopathic chemists were never good, just look at Avalynn, wherever she may be. "How are your injuries, by the way?"

"My leg has healed up into something really unattractive, and my shoulder still hurts like hell... Anything there in those batch of chemicals that would give me pain relief?"

"Unless you consider a very potent alkali ending your life – and along with it, your nervous system – then there's some pretty effective pain relief."

"You're full of sunshine and rainbows," Leo said dryly.

There was a noise in the background; I thought it were a cannon, at first, since I was beginning to hear them again I feared that cannons were going to become more frequent. That was a scary, disturbing mentality, but a true one. Leo peaked out the window and mentioned something about a tree collapsing in the horizon, as if that were a common occurrence. When he returned from his observations and peekings, he made another pointless remark–

"You're doing that face. It's concerning."

"I do it when I concentrate."

"... Right. That makes a load of sense, concentrating on dissecting your latest victim?" Leo laughed at his own joke, wincing as his tensed shoulder muscles (which had, afterall, been stabbed) strained him. Even I smiled, though I positioned myself so that Leo's eyes didn't hunt it down. "Seriously, how long is that weapon of mass destruction going to take? It's like one, large, mundane cooking session. But less fun."

"I am actually a good cook," I said irrelevantly.

Leo laughed sardonically. "That's great, we live off crap and sponsor food and you only just decide to bring up such a point now. You deserve a treat for that."

"No point bringing it up; I refuse to cook."

"What? Why?" Leo spluttered.

"Simple," I explained as I stirred the bubbling liquid in front of me, which had turned a beautiful ochre colour. If universal indicator were added to determine how acidic the substance was, I assume it would be a beautiful bright red. "I only cook when I have the instructions in front of me... Instructions are good. We always follow instructions, it's how we function as beings, and if you don't follow something by the recipe you're bound to meet disastrous consequences, because structure is beautiful. Maths and science is the most structured thing in the world, which is why I have a natural inclination to practice such theoretical arts. Everything good has structure; except religion, though that has a structure derived from conjecture."

Leo blinked. "You sure know how to ramble. Did you swallow a dictionary or something?"

"No... I couldn't write creatively to save my life. If I were made to sit down and tell an audience a recollection of events, I'd probably be entertaining enough were their faces covered and their identities anonymous. Or they could just be far away and read it, but I have the inner soul of a dying leech. What does soul do that benefits society anyway? I just make sure that my vocabulary is up to scratch, something more teenagers should do, if you ask me."

"I can cook kind of, when Mama ain't cooking," Leo seemed to grow tired of the old topic of conversation. "She always cooks though. Someone has to do it in the household... All of us are busy working or simply struggling to live. My sister and I worked but..." There was a tentative pause. "She was violated, scarred... She might as well have been killed that day. She doesn't seem herself anymore. What will happen to my family if I die? If I die, could Katya step in properly?"

"Makes me feel worthless," I snorted as I watched the concoction bubble; hotter and more intense, just like the conversation it was beginning to release vapour that eddied in front of us. "I mean, my family don't need me. If I died they could spend the money on themselves, or have less problems with raising an autistic child who has the inability to comprehend why pointless etiquette exists, or why society functions as it does... I'm a hindrance."

"Don't be stupid," Leo seemed pissed for a second, before speaking in that trustworthy, cordial tone. "Nobody is worth more than anybody else. That is what is wrong with society – it seems to assume that some human lives are higher in value than others, which is complete bullshit. If I was thrown into a room with a Capitolian, both of us draped in the same attire, people wouldn't tell the difference between us and our background. Contrary to people's beliefs, us District folk aren't barbaric... I'm not barbaric."

"You don't like bloodsports," I frowned. "That is barbarianism at its best." I glanced out into the sky; the hesitant morning sun, which seemed like the shell of a snail which had finally crawled into a suitable destination was clear in front of us – it cast sweeping rows of light over the forest. The forest where a potential victim was, or where my killer plotted my demise... Leo had a theoretical point, and yet he was wrong. Many human's had callousness in their nature, and they enjoyed nothing more than to torture the weak. The weak like Leo, the weak like the Eleven girl who had been killed last night.

The weak like me.

* * *

**I've posted a new story, I'd love it if you checked it out :) at first it may irritate you; it is a journal written by an Avox who is very very barely literate.**

**This chapter seemed fillery, I wanted to make it funner but basically things happen in the next chapter and I needed a bridge towards this. This chapter's purpose was to allow you to catch up on certain people.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Predict who'll win... If anyone predicts the victor (who I don't even know) correct, tell me, and I'll give you a treat – this'll be 4-6 months in the future, though._

Interview Question: Hot or cold weather?


	28. The Victor

Day Four, Afternoon:

_"The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it."_

_— Albert Einstein_

* * *

**Astrid Evans, District 1, 18:**

"We have cereal," I told Melanthe, fishing into the cupboard for a couple of seconds before my hand grasped something I'd never expect – a box of chocolate puffs. They were much cheaper than the nice, branded produce my daddy bought, but the fact that there was cereal to give was a nice one. I poured the cereal into the bowl, followed it with some milk (that was almost reaching its expiration date. Ew.) and handed the bowl to Melanthe.

"Thanks," she said blandly. She seemed somewhat miserable as we moved into the office – which was my favourite room in this wretched house. While I appreciated the shelter it provided, the cracking plaster of the walls and the Victorian decor was distasteful. She sat, ate her cereal cautiously and glanced at me. "Do you ever think that we're stupid to go here, I mean isn't this place haunted? Wasn't a girl killed when she came here?"

"A defenceless tribute," I pointed out. "To tributes this is a dangerous paradise, but we're trained to fight and the initial trap of the house has taken a tribute and ran off – what's the worst that could happen? The worst is a tribute coming here and trying to kill us, which would be suicidal on that tribute's behalf." I moved to the smashed window and peered out of it for a brief second. "We'll be safe Melanthe. The Careers always are until the final eight."

"Easy for you to say," Melanthe muttered. "You stand a chance."

"I do, don't I?" I gloated, checking out my nails as I ambled around the room – the colour was chipped in a few places due to light impact of sorts, but I wasn't too fussed. Chipping a nail was bad, but it was better than losing a finger, and those kind of things happened to tributes all around the Games. Melanthe was right; I did stand a chance. I just needed Luster and Archimedes to die, which would be easier said than done. On a sanguine note, if I died, at least one of them would follow.

"Remember Naomi?" Melanthe paused. "She's dead now... I spoke to her. I was kind of close to her, and in a matter of seconds... Bam... She's dead. I could follow soon, especially in an environment like this... We never know if a trap lurks around the corner. Or if I go into the kitchen alone, what if that thing that killed Petun– I mean the Eleven girl – is in there, what if it slits my throat before I can even scream out for help?"

"You're capable of defending yourself," I snorted, pressing my finger onto the piano key Luster had been pressing earlier, listening to the sharp notes that stabbed the air. "That girl was way weaker than you, remember," but I was weaker than that thing – my sore back and secret defeat told me that. "You can defend yourself, and there's nothing lurking in the kitchen..."

Melanthe stood up, walked into the kitchen in question and called to me. "You're right, there's nothing there..."

"See?" I said, sitting at the piano school and lounging on the musical instrument. I barely got to sleep last night, on the floor. I was going to claim the bed. That would be nice... Maybe I could sneak a nap now...

"Hey, Astrid... Look what I've found..." Melanthe's sentence was cut off by a choked cry, as if words had been trapped in her throat and suddenly cut off. I straightened as there was a crash, the sound of cluttering pans, and then a tense silence.

I removed one of the blades hidden underneath my t-shirt, stood completely and walked (very carefully) towards the kitchen. Adrenaline and fear both thumpes within me like a secondary and tertiary heart. I couldn't think, for that brief second I was scared. I closed my eyes and decided that all the best people survived using spontaneity – what was the worst that could happen?

"Melanthe?" I called scratchily, my breath so conserved I might as well of whispered mildly. There was no answer... And no cannon fire. She couldn't be dead, right? I moved into the kitchen, paused at the lack of sight – no Melanthe, no blood, nothing. Just pots and pans that littered the kitchen and a blood curdling silence. As I stumbled forward towards clutter and mess, I tried playing detective, finding anything useful. Just as I waded past a few scattered pots something yanked onto my shoulder harshly–

"Melanthe!" I snapped as I turned to my laughing ally. "That isn't funny."

Melanthe struggled to breathe through her laughter. "You should've seen your face!"

"You're lucky I didn't stab you!"

Melanthe paused when a phone rang somewhere. All conversation dropped as we scrambled for the unknown source, there – lying on one of the lone stairs – was a severed phone. Why was it ringing? Such timing was inconvenient. This whole situation seemed so rushed and improvised, so many questions hit me like a migraine. Phones were supposed to be connected, right? I shared a look with my ally, who stooped in and answered the (presumably) mobile phone.

"Hello?" Melanthe greeted the anonymous caller, I heard a sharp voice down the line and Melanthe immediately paused, as if she were being watched. Her stiffened body's complexion went worryingly pallid as she glanced at me with wide, fear lit eyes. Her shaky hand handed me the plastic phone. What was this? I grabbed the phone, a little confounded. "He wants you Astrid."

"This better not be a joke–"

"This isn't a joke."

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone.

"What a pleasant surprise," the imperious, harsh voice sniggered. "I'd never expect myself to come face to face with Astrid Evans, the eighteen year old girl from District One. Your history is pretty typical if you ask me – CEO father, ambitious Career... More ambitious than the other Careers, but not as much aesthetic richness facially. You'll make it far, but you're not going to win."

"And how do you know that?" Unlike Melanthe I kept my cool. Everything about this scenario screamed 'prank callers' – I knew how to deal with those kind of people, I had a lot of them calling me back at home. Chances are this person was a lardy Capitolian who jerked off at Hunger Games fight scenes, and he paid big bucks to taunt one of its tributes. Being a half psycho myself, I didn't let my psychological cousins (or sociopaths, as they were called) get the better of me. I could easily fight fire with fire.

"I know these things... And I'm tempted to cut your time here in the arena."

I smirked. "How are you going to do that from outside the arena?"

"Honey... I am inside the arena. How is your back feeling? I was a bit harsh. And that mirror you threw in my face? It gives me quite the ache... I'll get payback for that."

My flesh spouted goosebumps, almost as if a cold draft had invaded every inch of my skin, slithering down my injured spine. I closed my eyes and gathered my composure. Maybe my first theory was wrong. The fear reminiscent to that chilling emotion that gripped me when Melanthe pranked me reinstated itself, only a hundred times worse. I had a bad yet powerful feeling that this thing was authentic, devilish and deviant. "It isn't you, it can't be... Look, fella, you may have gotten that girl last night but you have to remember that we're Careers. You're choosing the wrong people to victimise here. I will fight and kill you."

"I'm so scared," was the sarcastic reply. "I'm shaking in my boots – if they shake any more I might snap a twig. That would be bad... I wouldn't want your ally to know where I am hiding," the cold laugh dominated all my rationality. What did the person down the phone mean? My brain processed every word... "It'd a shame if he died, if a certain someone snuck behind the two Career boys and slit their throat..."

"Archimedes," I whispered, grabbing the nearest knife and rushing to the doorway of the house, yanking it open and staring out into the desolate field ahead of me – on a leading pathway, splatters of blood from last night remained. The very blood the caller down the phone splashed out. I softly quivered as I scanned the empty area. "Where the hell are you? Who the hell are you? What the hell are you going to do?"

"I told you lady, I'm with your allies – the irony of this is great. They went out hunting, totally unaware that they were being hunted, so to speak." Another one of those cold laughs slapped the goosebumps on my flesh again. My breaths had suddenly braked, it was almost as if I were drowning in anxiety. "I wasn't lying when I said you'd make it far... I had to intention of hunting you or your doe-eyed friend, but as for your male ones... Well, lets just say it's game over for them..."

"You stay away from them," I snarled.

Melanthe looked at me with an undeniable paranoia, gingerly shuffling closer as there was the sound of branches snapping, of hushed voices all down the line. Surely it would be advantageous for Archimedes to die? So why was I being so defensive and on edge? I wished that the person down the line, the malevolent caller, was right here so I could tear out his innards. Anger and worry seethed together, all entwined, as I lashed a couple of expletives down the phone. I heard one more harsh laugh, the sound of my ally's crying out in shock, and then before I knew it the line jerked into obscurity. I was engulfed in silence.

"What's happened?" Melanthe asked as I dropped the phone.

"Lets lock the door."

* * *

**Avalynn Hielber, District 5, 17:**

The embers the wood created rose up, as if gravitating towards the sky, and then flickered and danced languidly, their strong waves of heat curing the dampness of my clothes. Damn rain, damn storm – damn deer for prying me out of my shelter, though the fullness in my stomach made it worth it. I lay down on the dry grass, looking at the leaves above me as the flames burnt aside me.

I was aware that with flames came smoke; it was subtle and mellow, rising above the trees and veiling the light further. The whole area above me was a network of leaves and branches; the tufts of greying matter wouldn't be too vivid, especially in daylight. And if it did attract anyone? So be it. I wanted people here. I was surrounded by a batallion of traps anyway, so any tribute that dared go near me would find themselves sliced, diced, crushed, impaled, beheaded, torn and other gruesome things. The smile played across my lips as I thought – if only the whole Careers would see me so they charged recklessly to their deaths. The loss of the four stranger tributes could only be an fantastic one.

I rolled over again, so that my eyes were facing the flames that leapt and fell, flickering and flaming its warm colours and radiating that warm heat. Maybe what I needed to invent was a lovely contraption that emitted heat; a portable flame, to be precise. Many blueprints and mental sketches flashes around in my psyche, but all of them were quite impractical. Looks like I'd have to rely on nature to aid me; it had done its job so far so good anyway. Nature was like raw science; and when science was applied, like flame to petrol, a dazzling display of fire happened.

A sharp crack. My body stiffened, my being elevated as I turned to the cunning person who had tried to sneak up on me – if they had been around for a while, even a short while, then their stealth had to be complimented. However, I was always good at catching out a snake in the shadows. My wide eyes, sight magnified by glasses, glanced upon the District Nine boy. His hair was long and wild, his grin missed a few teeth and he salivated blood. All I saw was blood; around his faced, dabbed across a few bruises, and all across his body. All information I collected flashed up before me – Cardinal Volke, aged sixteen and a high training scores were the primary pieces of him I remembered.

His training score was much higher than mine. According to the Gamemakers, out of me and him he had a much bigger chance of winning – probability tipped off its hat to the grinning, tall boy in front of me, but science was a mercurial, sneaky thing that played cunning little tricks when nobody expected it. Probability was something that people liked to call 'karma,' and I could feel it rubbing its palms together as meddling thoughts burnt in its mind.

He charged forwards, dropping his stance of stealth and ambush – big mistake, big boy. As he ran and snapped a tripwire a hanging boulder, just big enough to make a skull concave, fell and landed behind his frail feet. Cardinal may have been fool enough to charge straight at me, but his mind wasn't one that was totally governed by idiocy – he paused tentatively, registered the events that had happened in a predator like manner and turned very slowly to me, showing off his lack of teeth, and those worrying pointy canines.

"Yours or the Gamemakers?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I said, turning away and drifting my hands over the fire I had lit, letting the heat relieve them of biting cold. "They're mine, and if you're not intimated I will remind you that such pathetic traps only take five to ten minutes to set up – there are traps around you that took hours. Imagine how gory the sight would be... I wouldn't want to witness it," I smirked, turning back to the cornered, bloody rat. "One wrong move and the only thing you'll be killing is the coroner, who'll have to witness your unpleasant physicality."

"Impressive," Cardinal kicked a small, oval stone in front of him – noticing the lack of reaction, he slowly shuffled forwards. "Are your traps just here or do you have them around the arena?"

"This area is thick with traps, yes," I admitted. "But the sparse arena is still abundant with them – the traps are here, there and everywhere. Obviously I haven't travelled every acre of the arena, but once I do there'll be a cannon or three a day."

"I'm mightily impressed."

"So am I."

Cardinal lightly kicked the stone so that it skidded ahead of him, bouncing on bits of ground without activating any traps. Slower and slower he moved in front of me. Clever fiend – cleverer than the simpleton I expected of him, but people with psychopathic tendencies always did have above average IQ's. Still, his plan wasn't irrevocable; it had many loopholes. Loopholes I could play to my advantage. I grasped the shaft of my shovel, took its weight as I lifted it and waved it threateningly. Admittedly, its weight did strain my skinny arms.

"I have a shovel and I'm not afraid to use it."

"And I have knives and vials of acid," Cardinal said nonchalantly, showing me a jacket full of vials and knives just to prove a point. The knives, to me, were disposable; I had my own. But I hungrily gazed upon the small, transparent vials of beautiful death inducing liquids. "A shovel isn't the most typical weapon is it?"

"Unlike you I know where my traps are situated and located. The blueprint of them sizzles in my very mind right now... While you shift towards me ever so cautiously, I can speed away in the blink of an eye," I cleared my throat as Cardinal still continued striving to reach and kill me. "Do you ever learn, Mr. Volke?"

Cardinal finally froze. He obviously was taken aback by me knowing his name. However did the puny, weak District Five girl find such a thing out? I smirked again, though Cardinal followed my removing a knife from his jacket and playfully waggling it like it was another finger of his; the familiar way his hand was fused to the handle made it appear that way too. "Running away sounds good Five, but what if I lunge a throwing knife right at your throat?"

I paused. Good question.

"You do that," I edged my foot a slice closer to my warm, alluring fire. "And in my last split second I'll kick a burning log onto the dry forest floor and set this whole place into flaming bedlam. Would you rather I survive, or me, you and most of the other tributes perish because of your stupid impulses?" Cardinal paused and lowered her knife as my foot rested so close to the burning flames the heat began to attack at my leg, reddening it. When Cardinal signaled his defeat with the drop of a knife a grin crossed my face. Best not be too eased though, just in case he has something else up his sleeve...

"What're you doing?" Cardinal continued to ask. "For a District Five girl you're very... Pertinacious."

"And you're very pugnacious," I replied. "I'm just waiting for my traps to kill a couple of tributes. And you?"

"Just waiting for my blade to kill a couple of tributes."

"How sweet of you," I said bitingly. "I was thinking that these Games were sparse in the mental health kinda way. Usually a psychopath comes in the shape of a deranged Career... This is original." I smirked once again, squinting through my glasses as slits of light cracked through, powered by an annoying bout of brief brightness. "You are a psychopath, right?"

"Loud and proud," Cardinal paused, before mumbling to himself in brief debate. "And you are too? Thought me and my District partner were enough to add thrill to the whole arena... The Gamemakers would do this, wouldn't they? Yes... They're out to get me... Perfectly plausible idea, sweeping their streets of the guilty..."

"What on earth are you talking about?" I said, snapping Cardinal out of the vivid vision that misted his eyes. His District partner? The sweet Nine girl, a psychopath? Cardinal was surely deranged. And what was he saying about the Gamemakers? ... All of it seemed silly, but what else could you expect from a cuckoo like Cardinal? "Oh, and Mr. Volke, your your information," I lowered my spectacles to observe his blurred form. "I'm not a psychopath. I'm an extreme sociopath who intends to track down a brainy little District Eight girl so that I can safely declare myself the smartest tribute in the arena. If you leave now, that's both our problem solved. If we get the chance we can kill each other later."

Cardinal paused. "Why solve one problem when we can solve two? Why don't we ally very, very temporarily..."

Thought stiffened me. "Why?"

"Because we're both after the exact same person. Or the exact same two people, I guess you're aware of – and you know that fire can only be fought with fire."

* * *

**Micah Miraude, District 8, 17:**

"Hey look, it's a car!"

After Reed had told me to shut up, rather nastily, her new exclamation seemed random – I refused to turn around, for it was probably some kind of stupid practical joke. Instead my mind lurched away to a mental image much more appealing than hedges and trees; a sleek, speedy hover-car, the highest model. Speeding through the slim, neat streets of the Capitol's city centre, with a buxomly Capitol babe at my arm, preferably blonde, but brunettes were hot too... Add a bottle of cider (not the cheap shit, the good stuff) and some nice –

"Oh my god!" Violet squealed beside me, jumping up and down like an excited schoolgirl. Whilst Violet was barely ugly, I was disappointed that it was her who had replaced the blonde next to me. My eye scanned Violet's body, which had been exercised to good shape, and then it roved to something that attracted me just as much – a car. It didn't hover; it had tires, cracked windows and it was a clumpy old thing. But it was a beauty nonetheless. A mechanical stallion of sorts.

"Keep away from it you two," Reed foreboded. I did exactly what I did whenever a rule was stated – I broke it. Rushing towards the hunk of scrap, mechanical metal, which was neatly parked between two trees, I approached the car door and rubbed my palms together whilst my mind thought of fun ways to get into the damn thing... With a car, thing were going to be so much funner in this arena.

"Micah!" Reed gasped as I placed my hand on the car's door handle. "This is getting way too serious and out of hand... Your rule breaking is unacceptable!" She stomped like a bossy mother as I pulled the handle. Damn, the thing was locked. "That car is too good to be true... What if it has a bomb in it?" She looked scorned as I laughed. "Okay, what if there's a mutt lurking in the back seat? Ever think about that?"

"It makes the whole thing so much funner," I smirked to Reed's blatant chagrin. My mind briefly remembered all the carjacking I had done in District Eight's town centre. Remember kids, while there were many ways to break into a car, the messiest is automatically the funnest. I launched the handle of my spare axe at the frail windows, watching as the glass was obliterated before looping my hand in with expertise and finesse. Awkwardly opening the door from inside, I sat at the drivers seat at the car.

Violet looked me in the eye. "Maybe Reed has a point, what if the car is like... Totally dangerous..." She paused from her dramatic monologue to scrupulously investigate her nails before continuing. "Like, the Gamemakers always lure tributes into things that look shiny and pretty..."

I ignored her and slid into the car seat. Springy, I noted. It added unneeded pressure onto my spine, which made it a lot different to the Capitolian hover car I dreamt off. But it will do. After hotwiring the car like it was second nature so that the engine purred, I leant up and glanced to my allies. I had rusty driving skills, but I had escaped Peacekeepers in motor powered beauties like this before. Weaving in and out of thick trees was going to be like second nature, almost like breathing. I drove straight forwards, closer to my allies, and checked the backseat just in case...

No mutts.

I swerved the car rather dodgily, but safely, so that Reed's miserable face was glaring right through the smashed window at me. She huffed for a small time, flicked the chestnut hair from her face and contemplated for a few seconds – Violet stood there dumbly, kind of like a child confronted with a sweet shop. Maybe she was in awe, but if she was, she managed to look confusedly in awe.

"So, where's this carbomb Reed?"

"I give in. If you crash, I'm killing you," Reed snarled, moving towards the passenger seat – though she was beat to it by a giddy Violet, she relaxed in the seat adjacent to me while she gussied up in the rear-view mirror. Reed (in an obvious strop) indignantly stormed into the back seat and did something Violet and I had not comprehended: she put her seat belt in and secured herself into her seat as I fired up the car, guiding it into one of the sparse pathways and guiding it down there.

"Glove compartment!" Violet smirked, opening up the compartment and squealing at a small spider. After crushing it with the flat side of her dagger, she grabbed a small glass of something strong (which was perfect), a map, cigarettes and a lighter.

"A map?" Reed leapt forward, fighting through the binding of her seatbelt to swoop it out of Violet's hands. "That could be useful... Now we have an advantage I bet the Careers don't even possess a map! Violet, we can bloody navigate our way through this whole arena! Bloody hell, the forest is big... And there's a river... And a waterfall..." She peaked up as Violet scavenged some sunglasses and popped them on, making her look that bit classier.

"This is sooooo cool!" Violet smirked. "Check this out guys, as well as being totally glamorous everything comes in pretty colours!" She giggled. "Micah and Reed, you're red, yellow and orange!"

"Heat vision," I explained to Reed, who was ready to fly off with excitement.

"And that lighter... It can be used for fires and such... This place was a treasure trove all along!"

I took one of the few cigarettes left in the packet and lit it as Reed leaned over to investigate things herself; after blowing a ring of smoke into my furious ally's face and taking a well deserved swig from the alcoholic drink Violet had tentatively sipped, I leant back and drove without little effort. The only problem now was petrol, but other than that, life was good. Violet glanced out of her window, admiring the picture perfect trees whooshing away from her, propelling like rocketing, chlorophyll green blurs. Reed's careful eyes analysed the map in front of her and I had a well needed smoke and drink.

"We better drive towards a water source," Reed explained. "Hey... Guys... There's crystallised caves about three miles north ahead of us. And three small crosses in those caves... I wonder what they mean... There's something sinister and familiar about them..."

"I know what it means," I said, flicking some ash out of my broken window. "It means keep out."

Although, perhaps at some point driving towards the red crosses would make things a little bit more spicy. If revenge was a dish best served cold, excitement was one that required a few pinches of salt, so to speak.

* * *

**Helen Aspen, District 10, 14:**

Where had the stairs lead? A question better answered yesterday, but we ascended the stairs and walked out into a nightmarish cave; blazing lights of crystal and gems, the kind so rich these crystal mines had left District One's abundant resources to shame. Vigil and I both squinted, as this cave didn't hold the darkness one would expect – the crystals seemed to be lamps in their own right, glowing, sparkling and lighting the place around us.

Vigil conjectured that we'd gone into the arena again, and that though it seemed we were underground, we were simply in a cave that rested in an undiscovered compartment of the arena. I hoped he was right. Regardless of where Vigil was, the place was eerily labyrinthine. Every twist and turn was a physical philosophy; it lead to more twists and turns, but it never lead to a true exit or conclusion. Just wandering what made my feet threaten to blister as our supplies slowly depleted more and more.

"Every cloud has a silver lining," Vigil said genially.

"I'm struggling to see it through the wrathful rain," I sleepily retorted. My throat was abnormally deprived and the cramps in my stomach had told me I was hungry – on a really cruel note, hunger had done a lot to appease my shallow side. I had always wished I would lose weight. I got my wish, and the clothes that fitted my once chubby body drooped and sagged over non-existent flesh. When I asked to lose weight, I didn't want to do so by being starved and running for my life constantly.

"You're being silly," Vigil said, happy as ever. "We've survived careers, raging waters, deadly gas compounds and re-animated bone structures. Surely the Gamemakers can't do any worse than that?"

Immediately the cave jerked, almost as if its entire rocky bodice launched itself sideways, flinging Vigil and I to the ground as sharp, crystalline stalactites landed beside me. We stayed still and taciturn, afraid that the Gamemakers would order the cave to spontaneously erode and crush us harshly. Thankfully, neither were done. That was definitely a threat. I lay still for a moment, my stiffness only being broken by the constant quivering fear had edged into my body. Vigil said something undistinguishable, and after another minute or so I stood up – carefully, tentatively, my body rose on trembling legs.

"Sweet Jesus."

"Maybe we shouldn't underestimate the Gamemakers' ability to kill," Vigil laughed uneasily, rubbing his head as he stood. I hoped he wasn't hurt, he had been hurt already in our short times in the game – he had almost drowned and his body was covered in slashes given to him by a sword made of bone. Still, at least he was alive. Someone had died only last night.

That made the Games feel darker; the period of time in between her death and the last boy's was a long one. I remembered looking out of that old treehouse to see the Eleven boy's in the sky, before Vigil had recklessly plunged into some unknown, underground catacomb. Now we were stuck, and unable to see who had died. Still, they were probably much more talented than I was. I wasn't certain, but I think of all the tributes still breathing I had the least prestigious score. Either I was proving myself, or I was dead next.

And maybe, with my potential death close, I wasn't exactly safe in a cave made of trenchant crystals, probably designed by the Gamemakers to slide themselves into tributes or collapse at any moment. As we pressed on I prayed desperately for an exit, but we didn't come across one. Just my bloody luck, I guessed. Keep calm Helen, keep calm, sweating and being anxious won't help you. It'd just make you smell bad.

"Oh dear," Vigil said as we reached a corner. "It seems we have to turn around."

We had indeed hit a synapse; a cavity in between the solid, azure ground, nothing down it but a presumably deadly ravine. Vigil used his foot to prod the ground cautiously; knowing him he could probably use his unique senses to determine the chances of a collapse based on the hollowness of the ground. After an inquisitive tap, and then a harsher one, Vigil seemed satisfied. I wondered why this pointless time was wasted – but rest assured no time seemed wasted when Vigil Hatzardys was involved, and so his feet moved onto a narrow ledge that connected the two separated gaps, and began shuffling across it.

"What?" I paused. "Why, Vigil, why?"

"It seems secure – seeing as this ledge, however narrow and slippery it is, was formed of a crystal compound, and one as tough as diamond, I thought it would suffice. I also have guessed that this would lead to the exit. Do you seriously think that the Gamemakers are going to let us out the easy way?" I tried speaking as his hands cupped numerous crystal blades that jutted out of their wall, but he stopped me. "Helen, I'm trying to climb and dying doesn't appease me..."

"Sorry," I grumbled. "I thought they'd give us a break."

It both admired and annoyed me that Vigil was still showing a bright alacrity regarding the environment around him without coming across as naïve. An enviable trait, certainly, but it sometimes rubbed my irritation levels a little too hard. Once Vigil had crossed the deadly gap speedily, his feet resting on much more secure ground, he looked at me expectantly. I was going to die.

"You want me to go across that?" I paused. "You have to be kidding me."

"Stay here if you want, but I doubt you could navigate yourself out of this wretched place," Vigil smirked, as if this whole situation were an amusing one. My feet shuffled towards the gap and its narrow pathway, being repulsed by fear. Yet I continued on. Minutes before I had worried of my close-looming death, and now I had a feeling my prediction would come true. With that I placed my feet onto the ledge, gasping as a unnerving crack echoed around the vast tunnel ways surrounding us.

"Swearing would be good right now," I winced, moving further out on to the ledge – killing myself, potentially. Down the fall I could see, through the blinding darkness, the glitter of sharp crystals gave me the worst vertigo imaginable. I skittered to the side slightly more as the ledge I had sat on grumbled, causing me to yelp and hold onto the firm wall. The crystals eased their way into the flesh of my skin, lightly cutting my hands and giving me a stinging sensation that made my brain dangerously want to release, though fortunately it only prompted me to hold onto the wall further, staining it with bloodied handprints.

"Vigil..." Despite my stinging hands, light adrenaline made my limbs react. The pain on my skin became anaesthetised, all hurt gone, and I continued to edge myself towards the safe edge of the cave. Every moment I felt as if I were going to fall, a brief memory of my brothers and father propelled me that little bit further. Quicker, faster and more desperately my hands moved, leaving light smudges of blood across the striking blue walls. Soon Vigil held out his arms, ready to accept me on to other side –

A scream was forced out of my mouth as the small, fragile ledge I had scurried across crumbled, depleting into nothing and falling down the big gap – I used my last bit of energy to force myself into Vigil's wide arms, crying out as we both stumbled back into the ground, looking at each other in a bewildered manner for a tense second as we soaked in our surrounding. Everything was okay – well, kind of. We had no idea how to turn back, but we were alive for now. We had a chance while we were still alive.

"No way back," I sighed.

Vigil grimaced before forcing himself up on his feet. He used his bloody arms to swipe himself clean before hoisting me to the ground with a sly smile. "Dearest me, we have been targeted the past few days. Caves, bone warriors, deadly gas and crumbling ledges... But we're natural born survivors, we always get ourselves out of a kerfuffle..." With that he aided me onto my feet and proceeded down the parallel corridor to the unreachable one opposite us; it didn't seem the same as the others. It had crystal walls, certainly, but it looked as if it were leading to something...

Blue lanterns of flame levitated in the air, as if the bubble in time had frozen them to the spot – they flickered eerily, dependant from oxygen and whatever else, releasing a small cackle that chorused throughout the desolated corridor. My heart clenched, but I continued down the corridor nevertheless. Unneeded adornments weren't ever a good thing in the Hunger Games; they increased tension and atmosphere, and all avid readers of literature knew that when tension was increased there was going to be no positive result...

Soon we entered a room; the solidity of the cave had been hollowed out completely. The height and width of the whole room made it much bigger than most buildings I had entered with my life, and the flames that floated through the corridor all made up the haunting ceiling, releasing a high pitched lament... Lyrics sung in Latin, a language I had never been able to understand... But something about this room was sacred, consecrated...

A rumble conducted the singing flames. Immediately they dissapeared in puffs of smoke, forming tidally platforms that consumed the top end of the room, stream streamed down towards us like grey rain as all sound died out apart from the rumble. The noise in question was frail; as if it was barely in our hearing range. Suddenly, the wall of blue in front of us changed – twisted, turned, metamorphosed into a completely different kind of wall.

A more beige, plain wall to say the least; it destroyed the regality and sanctimoniousness the room held, but altogether, with the steam and shaking, added to the darkness and the body consuming chill. I glanced to the new wall, each pinning three women of it, each of various heights shapes and form. Two looked similar, with dark brown hair that trailed down their backs. One was tall and middle aged, the other had dark green eyes that were frighteningly familiar. I'd seen those eyes close, cry and widen in anger... The other girl didn't catch my eye as much. She was petite, frail, thirteen at oldest. The one thing all these prisoners shared in common was the crown of thorns that had been wrapped around their heads.

My heart froze as I recognised one of the three faces. Her angry eyes glanced at me like a stab wound; in perfect timing the blue flames reignited, melding with the smoke and eddying down like a weak volcano. I felt my hair fly around, whipping into Vigil's face as we were surrounded by a wall of flame and smoke, confronted by last year's victor. Confronted by Rayann-Grace Carter.

"She's supposed to be dead," I whispered.

Vigil wasn't the kind of person who initiated contact, but the shock of this situation prompted him to clench onto my hand, our blood compounded and squelched onto flesh. His eyes burrowed into mine, we both glanced to the thrashing victor and the other females, celestially illuminated by the candescent blue lights. Crippled with hypertension and confusion, I looked at Vigil...

"What do we do?"

"I don't know..."

The moment was broke as two figures broke through the flame; both blonde haired with blue eyes, though one face held a scar that told me that the person was dangerous. And indeed he was; it was the District Two boy, whose score equalled mine and Vigil's score put together. Still, a nine vs. a nine was equal chances in an ideal world... But add the one boy's score and we had a nine vs a twenty.

"What a perfect moment to enter," the Two boy said. All flame died in a powerful flash, leaving ghastly ash in their wake. "Now who do we kill first, the victor or the pathetic tributes?"

My heart felt butchered; this was the end. Rayann acknowledged it to, as she glanced at me with wide eyes. The Hunger Games started four days ago, but the real entertainment was to begin at this very moment.

* * *

**I'm fond of cliffhangers, but I must say... That was the only cliffhanger I've ever done and been 100% satisfied with. Sorry if the title gave you a bad misinterpretation and you thought fifteen tributes were going to die in one chapter. Oh yeah, and apologies for the chapter's delay too.**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: What do you think will happen to Rayann?_

Interview Question: If you were in the Hunger Games, would you throw all your principles out of the door in order to survive?


	29. The Twist

Day Four, Night:

_"It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one most adaptable to change."_

_— Charles Darwin_

* * *

**Luster Harbetto, District 1, 18:**

"What do you mean?" The District Twelve boy glanced at us. He tried appearing nonchalant, but fear vibrated out of every membrane in his body. Even though his trembling was microscopic, it was still easily sensed. Archimedes raised one of his blades, why he did I didn't know, but I mimicked him and raised my crossbow at the two tributes. Behind them the victor and the other girls thrashed, desperate to be released from their shackles.

"I'm sure the Gamemakers have one special reward or another for the victor and her... Contemporaries," Archimedes turned his nose to them, keeping his voice harsh and sharp. "Was this your tactic all along? You knew the victor was alive and you penned her, hoping the Gamemakers would release you or she'd make a good, meaty shield. I applaud your intelligence, but all plans are fallible. Hand over the victor and I may consider keeping you alive... Though I might still kill you for fun."

"Have her!" Vigil said exasperatedly. "We didn't even have her, we just stumbled–"

"How do we know we can trust you?" The girl interjected. I stood at the sidelines, taking in every word. The boy was the one with the plans, he was the one whose body must be locked into sight at all times, but the girl was different... An inspirer, one who didn't need to use swords and maces when her heart was a weapon enough. She was vulnerable now, but I had a feeling that somehow, someway she'd be a threat...

"You can't trust me. So you either die and I get what I want, or you die and I get what I want..." Archimedes' blue eyes glinted with his sword. "The scheme of how things work out is decided by you though, I suppose if you untied the victor and her friends you may have an extra precious few seconds to utter goodbye messages to your fam–"

A voice broke through the room, like an addressor in a colluseum – it was indeed Leein Malpin, the Hunger Games announcer, and that told my subconscious that this same message was being swept through the whole arena, entering every tribute's ears. That could only mean one thing – that such a message was vital, new rules or something. Leein's clear, articulate voice addressed us all, building the tension to a battle –

"Tributes, there is a new twist," the voice said coolly. "At a discreet location in the arena, last year's Victor has been found. Her death last year was faked for one very purpose – to see her fight again with some accommodation, just for Capitol fun. But not as a tribute, dear tributes, there are certain rules that must be followed – the Victor, her mother and friend are gateways to home. Take note: any tribute that succeeds in killing her will find themselves winning the ultimate prize – going home, though it must be known these people will not be Victors. They will not receive any prize money, fame or a home in the Victor's Village. Their prize will be survival," there was another pause as the four tributes glanced at each other. "But there will be certain tributes who will be banned from killing the Victor and her family. These rules are very elaborate, but vital nonetheless... If the Victor has been alone for over twenty four hours, the person who discovers her must refrain from killing her. Instead, it is their task to aid her... When the Victor or her friends die, the whole arena would be alerted with the sound of a gong."

"That's us," the boy opposite us muttered to his ally, disdain tinting his voice.

"If the Victor's guardians do kill her or her friends... they will be brought back to their District with very severe consequences, be warned," I shuddered. Did we really have to guess what those severe consequences were? They involved family, that was certain. "I'm sure you've taken such things into account tributes, and I'm sure this twist will make things much more exciting for you! We hope you are satisfied, have a nice day." The echoes waned, wobbling themselves into nothingness. Archimedes processed everything for a second, and his thin lips quivered...

"Deary, deary me," he sighed... "This does add a twist."

"We're not letting you kill her," Helen snarled.

"Why would I want to kill her? Killing the victor and being sent home... It's a bit like suicide really, why end this journey without any glory and fame to compensate it? People are so illogical, and they have the ambition of a crippled tadpole," Archimedes pointed his sword at Helen. "But I can get myself closer to being the victor of the two hundred and third Games... Ever so slightly closer..." Helen paused, not daring to break her glare. "Say adieux."

And with the push of a button we all jumped; even I didn't expect such a surprise attack, but blade became projectile in a matter of milliseconds – the clumsy girl tried desperately to avoid such an unexpected ranged attack, but her clumsy sidestep still led to the blade ultimately hitting her side, the blade slid in with such force. The girl was floored immediately with a cry, though she was still alive, still alive to look in horror at the gash in her stomach...

"Helen!" The girl's ally dropped all pretences in the face of danger and leapt towards his ally, turning her around and looking at her in the eye as a heartless Archie summoned his blade back with the press of a button, prompting a whimper from the stabbed girl as the blade pulled itself out of her torn flesh. At that moment I had suddenly realised – I didn't have to go through all the peril in the world to get home. I didn't have to kill numerous people like I dreaded, all I needed to do was end the life of one more person. Bow raised and mind made, I prepared to kill the second person in my short time in the arena–

And then I was shout and I was tackled, my head crashed and grated across the sharp ground and I stared into the blue eyes of Archimedes. Everything seemed so dreary and strange, I was preparing to go home at one stage and now I was rendered innocuous, looking into the eyes of my ally. Then it struck me – he had forced me to the ground. In the background there was scrambling; I tried fighting back my ally... I couldn't let them get away. I needed to get home, I needed to survive.

"What on earth were you–" Archie diverted his energies into pinning me down as I struggled. "Are you mad? Don't you want to win this thing, or are you a coward?"

"Come on!" I heard a girl shout. Archimedes turned and we witnessed Vigil using the edge of a sharp crystal to slit through Rayann's ropes; the other family members were already freed. Archimedes seemed torn, he wanted to kill the two passing, but his intelligent mind was as confused and shocked as anyone else's. The two people – older and younger girls – grabbed Helen's wrists, hoisted her up and dragged her away as Rayann sped after them.

I snapped, raised myself and pelted as many arrows as I could, but my wooziness had made my precision lazy, and Rayann was surprisingly agile. My first few shots diverted themselves around the victor, who proceeded to avoid the next few in a series of rolls and jumps so that crystalline walls were dinted instead of flesh. I was so close to going home, so I stood there and embraced the bitter disapointment. The new, improved alliance sped out of the room and Archimedes and I were left alone.

"We could've killed the real tributes if it weren't for you," Archimedes hissed, standing and pacing the perimeter of the room, propensity guided his thinking. When I touched my face, light dots of blood began to dye my fingers, partnered with a nasty sting. The Gamemakers were offering such a tempting reward for Rayann's life, and I had a dark feeling deep inside that if I didn't kill her something else would. It was Rayann vs. the world.

* * *

**Leonardo Brydon, District 10, 16:**

"What the hell are you trying to make?" I asked Tarren after she had thrown some more nasty looking chemicals into the concoction of acid; it had now turned into a strong vermillion colour, bubbling so strongly bits of the pan it was brewing in melded into the pot. I wanted to get out of this treehouse, with its torn books and claustrophobic closeness. If we didn't leave soon someone would find us – especially with the stench and smoke the 'potion' Tarren was making released. Tarren's tired eyes looked up at me, as wide as ever. She seemed almost in a crazed state.

"I don't even know anymore..." Many empty vials lay before her, letting out a clink and a tuneful hum when Tarren's lazy arm knocked them over. After Tarren had began making her first potion, she had been sponsored a couple of more chemicals. Many acidic, whether they were compatible with the other elements, Tarren didn't know. She was improvising now.

"It's been boiling for ages," I pointed out.

"Gives more time for the chemicals to mix," Tarren said.

"If this isn't done soon, I'll look for food or something," I grumbled.

I waited for another twenty minutes before admitting I was growing impatient; with that I decided to sojourn away from this sooty, dull treehouse, and so descended down the ladder escalating such a base from the arena beneath it. When my feet felt ground I was suddenly relieved to hit real air – the pleasant chill soothed my face, healed my choked lungs. The arena had been taken over by night again, and a strange full moon had already made a reappearance; it looked down on the serene forest below it, its beams gently melding with the air. Everything seemed so eerily calm and quiet.

I walked along, looking for any berries in sight, though none of them struck my vision. Branches rattled and groaned behind me, bushes shook and something always shot past, but I continually convinced myself that in a dark, tense atmosphere like this I was bound to be tricked by the mischievous night; and with the amount of sounds and sights, the trickster was being particularly rambunctious. I was still pert and alert, but my mind was overactive and tranquilised with exhaustion.

Eventually I managed to cross a bush, clung to it was a nice amount of berries. I imprudently snatched one and stuffed it in my mouth, and fortune was generous; The berries were not poisonous. I wasn't dying, I was merely experincing the deliciousness of exotic berry juice playing on my tongue. Fingers kept weaving between branches and gluttonously prying them away, into my jaw that clenched and unclenched mechanically until I was left with a displeased stomach and foliage violated of its fruit.

I grumbled a curse to myself and turned the opposite direction, striding forwards. Before I could react my feet slammed into something strange; I didn't even have time to react, I just flew over the encumbering object whilst my head hit the ground, landing in the perfect place – a puddle of mud. I coughed, spluttered, and then rested for a bit as my eyes slowly embraced the new darkness.

And when I regained my vision I paused at the groggy person beside me, slowly waking up due to the noise of my calamity. His long hair was knotted over his face, uncontrolled and certainly wild. His skin was begrimed, and his nails so grown they were like ochre talons. In a split second he slowly slipped himself out of the foetal position, his mad eyes scanning the proximity around him–

I stood, stepped over the log I had tripped over and pelted when I heard him shout out in alarm; probably summoning something to kill me too... "Ava! Ava! There's one of them here!"

Ava... The District Five girl? I stopped my light job as terror consumed me. The wounds in my shoulder and leg throbbed in that brief second, reminding me of the devious inflictors. And here they both were. The ice that enveloped my heart and the crafty, hypothetical rope that restrained my wind pipe made me pause, taking in as much oxygen as possible, before I sprinted faster that I ever had in my life when branches cracked behind me.

Running so recklessly in such a turbulent arena was certainly an unintelligent action, but every millimetre of my instinct told me to do it. My long legs jetted me forwards, streaming through the forestry and constantly coming to a near collision with the obstacles – namely trees, the sharp bushes and the roots that cluttered the ground at my feet. Maybe it was my own paranoia, but there was constantly a running rhythm behind me that echoed my own desperation. But that desperation wasn't desperation to escape; this was desperation to kill.

A glimpse of sharp teeth and ferocious, black eyes alerted me – Avalynn didn't have the athleticism to chase me, but Cardinal certainly did. I glanced behind me again and stepped aside, hearing something snap, a whoosing piece of wooden shrapnel stormed past me, tearing into the tree behind and making my chaser pause. There were traps here too? That one narrowly avoided smashing my eye. Cardinal was on the run again, but I eagerly sped away from him.

Still, I felt Cardinal was always behind me – further away this time, but I needed to be out of his vision completely. My temerarious mind took a big, deadly leap. My flaccid rope, tied into a lasso, swung and anchored itself around a tough branch as Cardinal rushed towards me, preparing to predatorily knock me down. My body and reactions were switched onto fast forward my pulsing adrenaline; I used my strength to make the rubbery branch groan and pull back, and as Cardinal entered a dangerous distance I released my grip and watched as the branch lashed out like a whip. It struck my assailant across the face, he groaned as he fell to the ground and I felt truly victorious for striking him down.

Still, I had to do things in a rushed manner. I sped to the tree, recollected the lasso that saved me, and as Cardinal groaned and recovered I sped out of his sight, away from the thick, dense forest and towards a homely tree that shone with light – the treehouse! Before Cardinal or anyone else could spot me, I scurried up the ladder like a desperate insect before forcing myself into the treehouse, gasping and nursing a throbbing stitch.

Tarren jerked and jumped as I entered. "What happened?"

I lay for a second, breathless. I didn't want to worry her – I promised to protect Tarren, her safety and her stability. I let more oxygen ease its way into my lungs before smiling. "Nothing. I just went on a run."

"Cool," Tarren switched into indifferent mode before grabbing the weak pot that held a sizzling liquid. "Well I think there's something you'd be pleased to know – the Capitol citizens have been lovely enough to sponsor us some water balloons." She saw my eyebrow twitch in surprise. "Woven in with some very strong metals – lead I suspect – to hold strong chemicals... Which means that we're going to bring some tributes down Keenan style..."

I didn't reply, only grinned. Just wait till Cardinal and Avalynn tried to defeat us again.

* * *

**Nadia Skettings, Interviewer:**

Behind me stood my insolent, imbecilic cameraman. I may be the interviewer of the Hunger Games, but I'd always remember my roots. I, Nadia Skettings, the host of the most popular talk show on CapitolTV today. Jynx carried a familiar aspect to the Games as interviewer (being a past victor and all), don't get me wrong, but Capitolians were progressively growing tired of tradition. Now the wanted freshness. That was why I won on the popularity polls. Though the most thrilling thing was when something ancient and classical snaked its way into the arena – the revelation of Rayann in the Games still made the Capitol howl with excitement! It made the perfect television special!

Over the set stood Tobias, tentatively whispering instructions in someone's ears. He seemed stressed, neurotic and on edge. Positively high on caffeine. Like a hawk that had spotted a particularly juicy rat, I perked up and swooped down on him; he was perfect for an interview. As I teetered forwards, delayed by heels, Tobias' dark eyes widened as I approached.

"Tobias, Tobias!" I cried out, shoving the microphone into his face. Tobias looked as if the device had been slid into his mouth, as if he were going to vomit. "The Rayann revelation is the perfect twist, a popularity poll confirmed it to be the best twist in years, even more so that the Victor games and the mutant games. Pretty impressive? Huh?"

Tobias stuttered over his words, nervous as always. For someone who came up with his brilliant ideas, Tobias wasn't the most charismatic person in the Capitol. When were the times Gamemakers were more politicians than scientists? I wanted those back. Behind Tobias, a Gamemaker of Asian descent tried to force his opinion in, but I ignored him. Nobody was interested in the backbencher Gamemakers, even if they participated in the invention of cool arenas.

"Are any other twists lined up for us? We are bursting with excitement–"

"I must say–"

"Quiet Yinga," I said, shoving him away and ignorant the sound of crashing human in the background. Lay behind Tobias was an injured Asian; it would be news in any other situation. I straightened my posture, making myself taller so that my eyes were injecting themselves into Tobias'. His words were still convoluted and hesitant. "C'mon Toby, you must have something interesting to say. What about marriage with Destiny, is it true it's beginning to erode into nothingness? Who's going to crumble and file for the divorce?"

"No comment," Tobias' eyes popped with anger. He stormed past, and Yinga took that as his opportunity, he pounced in front of me and begin forcing his life story down the microphone. I allowed him to be so uselessly garrulous, scanning the room for any other victims. When I found Natalya Nystalgia passing through the set like a gust of wind, I pounced and left a confused and disillusioned Yinga behind.

"Natalya!" I was frustrated now. On my show I only had a washed up boy band and a television dentist who possessed tips on how to make your teeth green (the newest fashion, and one I wanted to avoid. The average Capitol citizen looked as if they had recently been eating moss). I wanted more guests to pry out Capitol gossip. "Natalya, darling, I was just wondering if you had anything to say? Or time to spare on my show? I'm running short on guests."

Natalya paused so I was glancing into the back of her short, ink black hair. I could a small giggle, and she began talking (though she purposely avoided turning around and facing me). "I hate your show Nadia. I hate you. And even if I did give you the privilege of my affection, I have very little time to spare," and with that she stormed away, out into the studio's corridors.

Once again I was rejected, stranded alone in mundanity. What was up with people? Mind you chaos and clutter always filled the Capitol media whenever the Hunger Games around. Things grew even more hectic whenever twists are made – but the revelation of a victor was in itself revolutionary; a twist much more shocking than any feast, final eight announcement or inserted rule change. Though unfortunately it threw me into the 'backbencher' section. Right down at the bottom of the media pyramid, squashed by the likes of a few District Five girls as I shared such an embarassing spot with low-lives like Yeena...

"Nadia?" I turned around to see whoever was harassing me now – and it was a potential guest, actually wanting to talk to me. Her iconic purple hair was now a dark brown, she held gloomy eyes and everything about her screamed misery. The loss of her position? Perfect. The best people to interview were the emotionally unstable ones – that's why I was praying for a win from the Volke boy.

"Oh Jynx," I gloated, turning my nose up at her. "Perfect. What have you come here for? This is where professionals are."

"I'm sure you're the better interviewer, but you're forgetting I could break your neck any second now," Jynx hissed, her old self merging onto her features and then abating. "I just... I need to talk to someone..."

"You can talk on my show," I said quickly, signalling my cameraman to follow me as I linked arms with my rival, brushing my hair back and leading Jynx away, artifice being shrouded by eleemosynary actions and gestures. "I'll give you a couple of thousand credits for one interview, lifetime opportunity, chance to fire your career back and re-join the stars! And you get paid. C'mon Jynx, no-one wants to be a has-been... And lets face it, when Victors become has-beens they tend to get thrown back into that arena..."

Her face became attentive and worried. I wouldn't blame her, imagine being thrown into an arena for the fourth time? That wouldn't be pleasant, and Jynx's luck has to run out at some point.

"Come on Jynx?" I smirked.

"I just want to talk..."

"Talk about what?" She was confiding in the wrong person. Or the right person, depending on the perspective. From my perspective, her confession would be the perfect thing to talk about. My pseudo sympathetic face took over and I placed a caring hand on my rival, hoping that the idiot cameraman got the idea and decided to switch his camera on. Maybe Jynx could even be arrested or executed! I loved envisaging myself as a harbinger of justice and might...

Jynx turned around, muttered something and walked away, leaving my cameraman and I in a stunned silence as we took the words in. I felt a rage burn inside me when my keen eyes noticed that the red 'on' light at the side of the camera was at rest, but the anger inside me was blanketed by the shock of Jynx's words. I muttered them again to myself, just to confirm I hadn't misheard or misinterpreted anything.

"I've killed someone recently..."

* * *

**Vigil Hatzardys, 18, District 12:**

Everything seemed so rushed, though the second exit we found had led us back into the forest. Surrounding us was darkness and trees, though there was nothing else. My three allies had reacted immediately, Rayann created a fire and her two female counterparts aided an injured Helen. I stood, defenceless and useless amongst the hustle and bustle. I could solve and wriggle myself out of any situation, but I expected most situations. I didn't expect this, so for now I was simply lame and pointless.

"That wound doesn't look too good," the younger of the other girls said. Much younger; the other was an aged woman with an imperious stance and an ageing face which was guided by wrinkles. Her tied back brown hair was akin to Rayann's (albeit more mature and faded), and her eyes were a mirror reflection of the victor's. The younger girl who was tending to Helen looked much different; her eyes were blue, her hair a different shade of brown to the other women – a family friend, but not a relative.

"I'll be fine," Helen winced, wanting to omit the aid she was being offered. Since we had saved the three girls, they owed us it, though Helen seemed as if she wanted to be alone. The two nurses were dispelled, and instead moved to the parallel log while the fire surrounding us gave us a warmth we all desired. The scathing thought was that the meagre supplies Helen and I had to share (estimated to last another day or two) had to be divided thrice more, ending our food supplies by the end of the night. I felt resentment for Rayann, but resentment even more so for the Gamemakers. They threw in such a rule change with the intent of torturing Helen and I. If that rule wasn't invented two of the girl's throats would be cut, and Helen and I would be home and safe.

"That's your mother I presume," I said as Rayann sat next to me, my finger pointing over the flames at the older woman. "And your friend next to her."

"Layla," the girl squeaked placidly.

"I was about to commend your quick eye," Rayann said, looking into the distance through the sound of flames. "But the commentator told you so earlier. Your eyes may be sharp and observant but your ears are a bit slow District..." She hesitated for a second, contemplating as a cold wind slapped us all. "I don't even know what District you're in... I just know you saved my life. And the lives of those who I love... I can't thank you enough. Do you have food?"

"We can all have some," I smiled, though it was all an act. My soul reluctant, but my hand quick, I delved into the small scraps of food we had and withdrew it for Rayann to cook and divide. After handing it to the past victor, I gave her one last surreptitious look before glancing at Helen, who sat on the log dreaming as she watched the fire. Rayann seemed grateful again at the sight of food.

"Not very much of it," she added, making me frown a bit. "If you get me a spear I can hunt..."

"That would be good," I said brusquely, standing. "Now if you mind, my ally has been injured."

I wasn't fabricating lies to escape, I truly wanted to check on Helen. Helen glanced somewhat reproachfully as I moved over to her, sitting on the log next to her I paid her with a small smile. Her bloodied fingers moved to her book, staining the old pages as she took off from the last chapter she was on. There was an awkward silence, the only noises joining the wind were the ungrateful complaints made by Rayann's mother and the occasional segment of conversation from Rayann and Layla.

"Are you okay?" I asked Helen as she crisply turned a page.

"I've been stabbed in the stomach," Helen said. "Of course I'm not okay."

"I... I know..." I wished my cognitive intelligence were replaced with emotional intelligence, just for that small monent. "I do apologise Helen. That cut looks bad..." I slowly moved my hand to her bandaged wound, though Helen quickly swatted me away.

"Don't be silly. I'm fine."

"I shouldn't of dived through that trapdoor," I mumbled. "You wouldn't of had to rescue me so many times, we wouldn't be burdened with Rayann... Oh, if only we could go home like the rest Helen... How fantastic would that be? We wouldn't be victors, but we'd be able to live." I made sure I was whispering, in case Rayann's sharp looking ears detected my sharp words. "We'll get rid of them as soon as possible."

"We can't just do that," Helen croaked. "They're people Vigil... They want to live too. And we've got them now, if we have to preserve them we might as well fight to do so..." Rayann began to pass cooked meat throughout the group, and Helen smiled. "She's won the Games before Vigil. I have a feeling she can get through it all again, though this time she can help us... Or help you."

"You deserve to wi–"

"Survival isn't about who deserves what Vigil. You know that. It's about who is the most competent, and the likes of you – with a indubitably high IQ – and Rayann, with her athletic prowess, are much higher than me. The stab wound I have hurts most as it is a reminder my days are numbered..."

"You promised your brother you'd fight to get home," my fingers weaved through Helen's as I held her hand. She was the only person other than Vent back at home I dared call a friend, and friends were something I didn't have much of – therefore they were precious. Precious things were things you fight for. "I want you to promise me too."

"I'll try my best Vigil. I'll try my best."

There was another silence, the air became more chilly (though it was repelled by the warm fire Rayann had skilfully lit). Helen's bloodied fingers stained mine, and we both began to eat the small chunk of meat we had left from our sponsors. The night was uneventful after that; we were all taciturn, though Rayann and Mrs. Grace Carter bickered over past events, revealing a strained relationship that could be exploited. We all tried to sleep on the rough logs, hoping bad weather didn't ruin us. Everyone was uncomfortable, though I had slept in uncomfortable beds all my life.

The only thing keeping me awake was the girl lying next to me, her heartbeat and shallow breaths almost audible. No matter what changed, victor or not, Career or not, I'd be okay if those breaths continued breathing, if that big heart continued beating. If Helen had taught me one thing, it was that worse things that death happened during the Hunger Games.

* * *

**I hate this chapter so much. Damn writers block :( After the great surprise last chapter I feel bad for presenting you with this sloppy thing :(**

**There was supposed to be another segment for the Careers, though I had no time to put it, sorry! Damn procrastination! Just know the Careers returned home safely, and they'll get the first POV of day five!**

**Sorry for those expecting death. That's going to bubble up and eventually erupt!**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Tarren & Leo vs. Ava & Cardinal. Who'll come out on too?_

Interview Question: Do you embrace change, or detest it?


	30. The Infection

Day Five, Morning:

"_Intelligence is the ability to adapt to change."_

_– Stephen Hawking_

* * *

**Archimedes Plutus, District 2, 17:**

I had to sleep on the floor last night.

Astrid seemed very angry when Luster and I returned from her hunt. She seemed angry, for reasons unspecified – maybe she had been angry because we hadn't managed to get any kills, nor had we managed to get the victor. Whilst none of us wanted to kill Rayann (I suspected Luster did) it would be advantageous if we captured her or her counterparts, so that tributes had little escape. Luster slept beside me on the stone cold floor when I woke up, and in the bed I could only make out Melanthe's face.

I crept out of the room, carefully trying to avoid shaking my allies out of their slumber. The floorboards squeaked and groaned beneath my weight, but I eventually managed to slip into the main room – confronted by Astrid, who sat down very casually, gazing out of a broken window while cracks of sunlight highlighted her red hair. Her hands were cupped around a mug of warm coffee, and she gave me a look before abandoning the knowledge of my existence altogether.

"This is amusing," I said. "We've never got on before, but this cold shoulder is fresh–"

"You are a dirty piece of work Archimedes."

"Is this to do with your... Biology..."

"Sexist," Astrid snorted with vehement accusation. "Lazy. Arrogant. Callous. Obnoxious–"

"Well done Astrid, you know a list of negative adjectives," I said, trying my hardest to keep the blunt exasperation out of my tone. "I'm the big bad villain, I get it, but what brings this attitude up all of a sudden? What have I done to deserve such ignominy? I've been out for one hunt and then you act like this. I haven't backstabbed anyone, you know? Or even killed anyone. Are you angry at me because of my failure, because if that is the motive behind your scathing fury must I list the mistakes you've made since stepping foot into the arena?"

"i don't even know what ignominy means. But there is a phone, somewhere in this house," Astrid muttered. "Where Melanthe put it I don't know, but it's somewhere there... And every now and then it decides to ring. Who'd of thought the Gamemakers would manage to make a phone the most fearsome trap in this place? Who'd have known? Well they did, Archimedes. Behind the phone is someone with an icy voice, sonorous and threatening. They always seem to know what we're all doing – always. It's smarter than us, it's stronger than us..."

"How is this related to me?"

"In every way Archimedes! Remember how we got here, we arrived to witness the District Eleven girl get hurled off the upstairs balcony? It's that cloaked creature. It isn't any old mutt, it's more than that..."

"And to link this with me?" I said, uncaring for this 'horrifying' creature, which would easily be destroyed by a pack of Careers anyway.

"It told me it was going to kill you," Astrid said simply, taking a sip of coffee.

"And you're angry with me for that?" I paused. "That is pathetic! How is it my fault?"

"Archie, it is every bit your fault!" As the sun brightened a bit, there was a light that brightened in Astrid's complexion. "Forget it, you just don't understand girls. None of you lot do, I was really tempted to slap you last night. And also, lets highlight your weaknesses you cocky brute – you had it all under control, and yet you let last year's victor escape unharmed? I heard the announcement last night, we can't kill her can we? We want victory, not survival."

"That's where we failed," I paused. "I feel Luster has other plans... He tried puncturing the victor and killing her with his arrows. He wants out of this," I looked at the ceiling, where the One boy's sleeping body lay. "If I'm correct, and I have fairly good intuition, Melanthe would've changed her mind too. They'd both try to kill the Victor."

"Right," Astrid paused, looking perplexed. "I don't get it. Why don't we just let them?"

I crouched down in the chair besides Astrid, saying words which felt strange when expelled from my lips. "Astrid, you know I care for you – if, in unlikely circumstances, I die I want someone competent like you or Luster to win, I want a victor, not a backbencher. When I win, I want grand celebrations – we all know the best victors are sole survivors, and a sole survivor I shall be. Do you want your survival prowess usurped by someone else? Do you wanr your victory undermined by another Career? Of course not."

"You forget that I'm going to win," Astrid said. "Higher score and all."

"Blaine got an Eleven," I said. "And he's a corpse now. Estimating is a skewered probability, and probability is trying to put logic in coincidence. Don't trust it."

Astrid paused. "So what do we do with the victor?"

"Protect her from tributes and let the Gamemakers kill her, of course."

"What?" Astrid stood up, looking puzzled. "The Gamemakers, why would they kill her?"

"Analyse the situation," I said. "When have they sent a victor back into an arena as a twist? Three Games prior to this have had a Victor sent back in the arena, but they were quells. Think about the price tag over Rayann's head, the Gamemakers want Rayann to die. They're begging for us to kill her family in front of her, make her suffer, and then slaughter her. It's pretty evil, isn't it? But it's logic. And logic is a beautiful thing we must consider and take advantage of. We kill all the other tributes, let the Gamemakers off the Victor and company, allow ourselves to be the last ones standing." I felt my fists clench in excitement. "There's only going to be one survivor this year."

"And that's going to be me," Astrid took a finishing gulp of her coffee and then placed it on the nearest desk. "Archie, I think we have a plan."

The light which rested on Astrid was spread across her chair, and now she was in darkness. I think the audience may have been seeing a small pact develop between her and I; they theorised we were going soft. Maybe there were other evil characters among the tributes that led the audience to believe that, for once, the villains weren't among the small group of Careers. How wrong they were. The Careers were a threat. However Astrid and I, the new duo, were much more threatening...

* * *

**Dannielle Wright, District 5, 16:**

"Abe, leap aside!"

Abe managed to follow such an order in the nick of time, avoiding a paw smashing into the ground in an earth shattering manner. It was all so sudden, we were slowly waking up and then we were attacked by a wolf like creature. It wasn't your average wolf, it didn't come with a pack, but it was a muttation and – if I had to estimate – as deadly as any pack I could think of. It had shaggy black fur that looked as black as the night, it blotted out the streams of light and seemed to suck out all joy. But the most terrifying thing, visually, were its red eyes that looked as if they had been made from Hades' flames. Though the most deadly thing I could spot were sharp claws and large fangs, supported by a solid jaw–

Which Abe instinctively rammed her fist into. I wanted to scold her for doing that when the wolf (Or werewolf, for a more fitting description) could've used those teeth to tear her arm from her body. She was fortunate, and that was the most important thing. Her well designed punch also managed to throw the wolf off track a bit, forcing it to lament a puppy-like squeal, though it seemed otherwise unaffected.

"Come on!" I sped through the forest, Abe following after me. The beast hesitated for a second and chased after the both of us, trying to hunt us down and smite us. Abe and I had survived so much; District Eleven boys and muttated trees, to be precise, and we couldn't just allow ourselves to die now. The thing galloped after us, each paw destroying the terra it touched, it grew ever so closer to us. I reached for the small knife Abe and I had salvaged in the blood bath.

I was going to waste it, or it was going to save us.

I launched it back and Abe and I were greeted to a similar whelp to the one the werewolf had made earlier, only this one was more agonised. I passed it a speeding glance as I ran, noticing with a grimace that the knife rested in the beast's eye socket, blood oozing out of the gory cavity. My breath was limited, but when the creature was out of our vision I stopped and turned to Abe.

"It's going to be after us," I said, hearing a wrathful howl that made my stomach sky-dive. "I think it should chase me."

Abe paused, about to sign something, though I captured her hands in my own. It would make sense that she'd be confused, she was stronger and much more agile than I was – surely she'd be better off slaying the beast? Wrong. Brute force wasn't enough for it, or not using fists. I'd never allowed the audience to spectate my ability to meld with shadows; now was the time to put my stealth skills to use after reserving them for so long.

"We change directions," I said, moving my fingernail and tearing an old scab on my arm away, wincing at the sharp pain and watching droplets of blood grow out in replacement. "If I'm right it'll have a nose that's good for blood, so it'll go in my direction." I gave Abe on serious look before turning. "If I die, don't stop and mope, keep running!"

As I turned there was another large howl, and we both scampered. My lungs already felt constricted, struggling to attract any more oxygen, but I ignored the pain and burning and continued running as fast as I could. The sound of raging footsteps and demonic howling trailed after me and fear and relief both hit me – wherever Abe was, she would be safe for now. But I had to get rid of the furry fiend behind me. Before I could allow myself to be captured in its line of sight I darted into the shadows, out of sight.

The creature could be seen from my peripheral vision, bounding aimlessly after my scent despite its inability to see me. I continued running frantically, hoping that the darkness would prove itself a worth ally. I crouched down and hid behind the nearest tree as the creature scoured the proximity.

I needed to rid myself of the smell of blood. I needed to stop breathing so heavily. Dog-like creatures didn't rely much on sight anyway, so I licked the iron tasting blood off my arm, scowling at the vile sensation on my tongue. The creature still seemed to understand that I was around, but I persisted in crouching, biting into my wrist to prevent it from hearing the slightest noise I made.

It skirted around the tree I was hidden behind, looking right into the shadows that cloaked me, before brushing the prospective of me being there away and turning with a snort. Euphoria bubbled as I realised I had escaped, so I tremulously stood, turning around whilst feeling goosebumps invade flesh, and sprinted again, cursing under my breath as a frail root snapped under my weight.

Though I had a head-start, the creature sprang into action at the noise – it turned and observed me, and as soon as its sight was locked onto me I knew that it wouldn't allow me to escape. The creature only had one eye, but it'd keep it on me until I was its feast. I shouted out one more curse and let adrenaline rocket me forwards...

The sound of running water teased my ears. A river? I didn't know that they were around in the arena, but common sense told me that the Gamemakers were very likely to put multiple water sources in the arena. It was the only option I had left, but I did the one thing I hated resorting to: I followed my instinct and sped towards the river.

Though I couldn't hide in the shadows I still used them to my advantage; I darted in and out of the shadows like a needle that sowed them together, seemingly managing to flash into nothingness before reappearing, confusing the werewolf that stalked me. I noticed signs of approaching water – my shoes eventually splashed through grimy puddles, and there was greenery in abundance. And the werewolf was catching up.

I seemed to run out of the thick space of forest and into open air – opposite me was another chunk of forest, though it had been separated by a large river. The body of water was manipulated by a strong current, raging water frothed and spat as they were dragged down what seemed like a large waterfall. The only way across was a fallen tree that had 'coincidentally' turned itself into a bridge.

I screamed as the large creature slammed beside me, leaping after me with questionable accuracy. Why the hell was I stupid enough to stop? I leapt again with the beast, who brushed the air I swept through as I clumsily clambered onto the tree trunk bridge. It followed my direction as I ran across, hoping that I didn't fall... I couldn't fall...

If my weak coordination didn't push me off, then the weak trunk of the bridge would. It was like a spine that threatened to split, shuddering and groaning with each step I took... And the wolf's weight wasn't assisting me. I continued running as the bridge made one almighty groan, feeling the wild waters throw themselves onto the bridge and the wolf's breaths tickle my neck.

And then it snapped.

I screamed as the wolf's frantic, swiping claw tore a chunk of fabric from my shirt, but the fall prompted me to scream louder. I felt the air shove me down before I finally managed to grasp onto the ledge of the other side. The wolf finally died, or so I presumed, I saw it get pushed down the river with tremendous force before falling down the waterfall.

I gritted my teeth and tried pulling myself up, the piece of rock I had held onto began to loosen. Soon it would fall and I'd fall with it, dying in the same way as that horrible demon. I guess my last seconds couldn't be spent dangling and hopelessly trying to bound onto solid ground. I internally apologised to my father, I brought this on myself, I thought I could win. At least Abe was–

And then a hand clutched onto mine and yanked me up. I screamed, wondering what tribute was going to slaughter me – but I was looking into the kind eyes of Abe. She was smiling, she had rescued me. I almost sobbed with relief, though I couldn't allow myself to show the audience how hysterical I felt.

"Abe, how did you?"

She smiled and tapped her nose.

* * *

**Veronica Vesna, District 7, 17:**

Waking up hurt. I lay, curled up on the chair in a feline like manner, staring out a smashed window as the light induced the most horrible pain. Owch. I'd had a few hangovers before, I mean, you totally have to have a few if you want to be popular. Though I didn't understand why, nausea and spewing really weren't the most fashionable things in the universe. I peered up, immediately feeling off-balance as I noticed the empty driver's seat.

So Reed was awake somewhere. She had a habit of arising before the rest of us, going on a solitary walk. It was silly of her, even silly me knew that alone there was a considerable chance she'd never return. What if I'd slept through her cannon? Considerable paranoia hit me as I cast a glance towards Micah, who (unlike Reed) was enduring immense lethargy and sleep. The bottle of alcohol he had contains dregs of what it used to have, though he and I consumed a majority of it. Regrettable, I know.

I tried cleaning my hair, though it was getting considerably harder. Though I had soap and some basic cosmetics to deodorise me and keep my face looking reasonably clean, there was very limited shampoo in the arena. My red locks looked increasingly more greasy everyday, though the process was very slow. Good! I think the stylists somehow made my hair like this, though I didn't know how. I even noticed it with Micah's wild excuse for hair and Reed's much neater mane; though it slowly adapted to suit its wild surroundings, tribute's hairs never seemed to grow greasy.

"You up?" Reed's head popped into the window, judging eyes looked directly into mine and made me jump.

"Yes," I said, keeping my eye on the mirror and preening.

"Get away from that," Reed said, retreating her head and opening the backdoor, snatching the bottle of strong alcohol from Micah's loose hand. He didn't even stir as expected. "I've got a fire running if you want breakfast?"

Knowing grease and fat was the best medicine for a hangover, I was quick to follow Reed into the sparse area of forest we camped in. She had a fire that cooked horrid lumps of meat for me, and slme berries and fruits were left aside for her own consumption. I reluctantly allowed the log near the fire to become a temporary chair whilst the chilly morning air perished the heat and teased the wounds on my back. There was a moment of solitude, and Reed allowed the remaining bit of alcohol to fall into the hungry flames so that they grew ever more fierce.

Reed eventually (with a wrinkled nose) scooped up the slices of meat and served them to me. Having to eat them with my hands was one of the hardest things I've had to do with my life. Ever. But I did it anyway, wiping the shiny coat of grease onto my jeans. The Twelve girl observed me for a bit, before nonchalantly forcing the glass bottle into the tree so half of it smashed, leaving a jagged piece of glass in Reed's hand.

"Potential weapon," Reed said, resourcefully keeping it.

"Why are you like... Why do you... Why do you whore things?"

Reed blinked, looking confused. "Do you mean hoard Violet?"

"I think so."

"Everything has a purpose. This is the Hunger Games, we can't afford to waste anything. In fact, in life you can't afford to waste anything – your family must be wealthy if keeping a glass bottle is alien to you, I'm not even poor..."

"Micah's poor," I pointed out cleverly.

"Yeah," Reed looked at me. "Enjoy breakfast?"

"I'm still hungover," I complained. There was a groan that came from the car close to us – Micah chirping in some kind of agreement, of course. The door swung open, and our friend stumbled out before releasing the contents of his stomach on the floor. I thought I was bad, but Micah was ten times worse. "Hey Micah. Can you remember last night?"

"No," Micah groaned, wiping his mouth to remove any remaining bits of vomit. Ew. "Must've been good."

"Actually," Reed looked at us with authorial intent. "If you two didn't resort to a bottle of alcohol – which is useful fuel you know – you would've known of the rule change last night. I had to listen to them and take mental notes as you two screamed incoherant musings and expletives. Remember the announcement last time at least? Or do you remember anything from last night, to be more concise?"

I wanted to make myself seem less confused. Micah seemed more confused than ever.

Reed sighed and swept her hair out of her eyes, trying to stop her fists from instinctively curling as she spoke. "Remember those three crosses on the map? They were there because that was where the victor was, the Rayann girl–"

Micah laughed. "The Rayann girl is dead."

Reed glanced up, taking the silence as her ally – letting it answer for a stunned Micah, before continuing as calmly as possible. "Last night she was revealed as this game's twist. We don't have to worry about magical gems or feasts when this girl is around. She's a prize catch, whoever kills her or the two companions she's brought with her are allowed home. They get to survive – there's three of them, and there's three of us. We don't get fancy houses or a cash prize, but surviving is enough."

"I can get home?" I asked, perking up instantly whilst optimism and candour shone like a beam of well needed light.

"You have to kill them though," Reed explained. "We must be careful. There's another rule they snuck in there – if she's been going solo with her friends for more than twenty-four hours then the next group of people she meets can't kill her, or they can't without facing major consequences, because they have to act as her guardians from then on. I don't know about you, but the thought of being assigned the job of protecting the most targeted person in the arena is a rather daunting prospect. Don't you agree?"

"I'd feel mean for killing someone..." I thought for a second, glimpsed into the future. In this hypothetical future Rayann's last breaths hit my cold hands as I jammed the knife that was currently in my belt right into her imaginary little neck, imagining warm blood oozing out into it. The fictional guilt and terror I got from watching a girl turn into a corpse was enough to hurt me more than any stab could. But I knew I had to do it – I was stupid and weak, how else could I get home? I made my decision there and then, though it was a decision I didn't like making. But I made it. "I will kill her."

Micah paused for a second. "We get no prize for helping survivor girl kick the bucket?"

Reed grimaced. "No."

Micah paused, he looked at the fire – the very fire which was beginning to die. There was a solemn air about him. I know he wanted to say something, but he just stood and walked to the car, prepared to escort us to the victor we'd be killing. I didn't catch onto people's emotions, but I knew why Micah wasn't as enthusiastic about killing the victor – if you killed her you got no money, and I knew that the prospect of a bigger economy was what propelled Micah to play the game.

* * *

**Helen Aspen, District 10, 14:**

"Come on Helen, keep playing the game..."

The world seemed distant. My eyes had only just opened, I only just witnessed the world around me. But though it was visible it was hardly tangible. I felt like a separate entity to my physical vessel, as if I were watching things from an aerial point of view. I had been dragged out of the makeshift tent Vigil had made by him and Rayann, both watching me with a concern.

What was this?

My body was in distinct pain, but like every feeling such pain was distant. I tried moving my fingers, closing my eyes or even releasing an audible breath, but none of those actions were achievable. I was aware of my breathing, but my lungs were working autonomously. Rayann called something else and her mother and friend flocked around me, tearing off my shirt and investigating my old wound. It was open and in pain when I set off to sleep, now it felt like nothing – but the drowsiness, the lack of feelings and the sensation of drowning in oxygen could all be linked to the wound. I knew that deep inside.

"It's infected," Layla, Rayann's friend, said sadly, trying to stifle a gasp as she looked at the wound. "Did no one do anything to clean it? Or–"

"We're not exactly full of medical supplies," Rayann said bitterly.

"What's going to happen?" Everything seemed so slow at first, as if actions were all wading through congealed syrup instead pf thin air – but motion, force and physics had caught up to my reality and everything was back in action. Vigil was in a state of distress, though he didn't dare show it. "Was it poison? Will she be okay? She isn't going to die is she?"

I couldn't die. Alarm bells rang off in my head when I remembered the promises in my head. I did everything I could to stimulate my physicality, though all I did was wheeze futilely so that my allies were all alarmed. Rayann's mother aided Layla, they tried their best to redress my wound (which even I knew was pretty useless) and shared concerned glances. Vigil seemed erratic, and Rayann seemed both solemn and indifferent. My demise to her was only one less person trying to kill her – knowing that in her should've filled me with hatred, but I had nothing for understanding for Rayann.

That's why I kept her.

"I don't know what it is," Layla said to Vigil, looking up to him, drawfed by his tall figure and trying to hush her voice so that I couldn't hear. "Poison, a nasty germ, I don't know, but she's badly infected. When I say bad, I mean bad Vigil. It's leaking pus and everything... I didn't know wound infections could kill someone but look at her..."

"She's struggling to breathe," Vigil said resentfully. Rayann had disappeared completely, and my peripheral vision managed to spot her mother – who was preparing a meagre breakfast of berries. "She's struggling to breathe, and you can't help her?"

"That's why I think her time is up," Layla said.

I didn't dare give up just because a young, inexperienced girl said I was to die. I still tried fighting through this torpor, but I was forever snatched from animation. And I knew that she was right. This feeling I had, of soaring more towards the sky and leaving my body – was this what dying felt like? Such an assumption seemed plausible. Time flew by and I lay back, sickened by hearing the diagnosis of my own death. What about Tristan, Chris and my dad? Would they feel bad, watching the television in the knowledge that I was dying?

"Maybe you should kill her now?" A formal voice that I recognised as the mother said, trying not to sound harsh and failing to do so. "Her time is–"

"No it isn't," Vigil said, being irrational, unjust and naïve for the first time ever. Why did he have such an attachment for plain old me? I wasn't pretty or particularly noticeable. I was just mediocre Helen. And yet Vigil, someone who seemed not very open to others, seemed desperate to keep me to his side. Not even death was to separate us. "She's going to be okay. Isn't she Layla? Sponsors could give us something–"

My body was already shutting down, by poison or something, it was being transported by my slow blood. I was killing myself. Medical supplies wouldn't help, and though Layla nodded I knew she was lying.

Vigil appeared by my side, like a church goer before the altar. He clutched onto my wrist, felt my dying pulse and then offered me an artificial yet reassuring smile. I wished I could smile back. He still seemed resolute, apart from his desperate tone nothing was visible or distinguishable – his face was blank, though I felt his need to cry. I wanted to cry for him. Maybe I did slightly, for he wiped the corner of my eye and clutched onto me tighter.

"You can't die. You're a winner Helen," Vigil may as well have been talking to himself. "No heartbeat, breath or pulse will make you lose. Not in my eyes."

There was another pause. Rayann returned from her hunt with meat propped over her shoulders and a makeshift, bloody spear in her hands. She paid little attention to Vigil and I, and the background was filled with the sound of her mother and her vociferating and bickering as they usually did. If I were fully conscious with little threat of dying, I'd scold them. Now I didn't care. Vigil's touch was the thing that mattered the most.

Vigil removed something he had hidden under his shirt. A brown parcel that was shaped into a dangerous point, as he tore away the paper I knew exactly what it was – our sponsors didn't have enough to provide us with healing items. But they could give us things used for killing, which was the ultimate aim for a Hunger Games tribute. To survive I had to kill – namely Rayann. My eyes flickered up to Vigil with a dim surprise as she glanced at me expectantly.

"You can do it, you can kill one of them," Vigil whispered. "It can get you back home..."

Vigil seemed enthusiastically. I knew he'd have a plan of some kind, but I remembered that though I was dying that did not remove me the 'high honour' of being Rayann's guardian. I could not kill her or the other's, because I'd be punished for doing so. I'd live, but a series of 'tragic accidents' faced by my family would be the reparations the Capitol would reap. I was only surviving this for them, and I wasn't going to win for it to endanger them.

Using my final bout of energy, I pushed the dagger away and sighed. "No."

Vigil paused. He understood.

And with teary eyes he stood and watched over me, preparing for the moment I died. Was it a week or an hour away? Time did not matter anymore, but the consequence was inevitable.

* * *

**Tarren Keenan, District 8, 15:**

Waking up with a soft pillow caressing and cupping my cheek was certainly the best thing I had faced in the Hunger Games – I had braced myself for rocky cave floors, lumpy forests roots (which I had settled for the last few nights) or antarctic blocks of ice. It was certainly advantageous to be waking up on a withering couch, my ally curled up in a nest of torn books around me. I groaned and got on with the morning. The one thing that persistently irritated me during the Games was the lack of schedule: I always got up at six in the morning. It was probably ten past six by now.

I moved towards the window and glanced out at the sun, quickly calculating the time. Even worse – it was approximately around eleven o' clock. Annoyance burst like a bubble inside me.

"Leo, up."

My compliant ally was soon standing, glancing out of the window with me. The sun coloured the plain leaves a golden colour, and as always they were a sea stretched out before us – only broken by the clearing and field around us. The sky was dominated by the reign of morning, birds sung nonchalantly and I let myself be lost in nature instead of reality. The reality I embraced, but had learnt to hate. Somewhere else in the tree rose a tower very much like our treehouse, though crafted from metal and much taller – a watch or radio tower of some sort that I hadn't noticed. Like our camp it stuck out like a sore thumb.

"You know how you said we shouldn't stay here?" I said, looking at Leo. "I think it's nigh time we move."

"Away?" Leo blushed. "It's best we stay here."

"People may–"

"We have this trapdoor, we can escape through that," Leo glanced at the trapdoor. "Or we can barricade the entrance–"

I chuckled, though the situation wasn't funny. "You're not convincing me here."

"Look Tarren – pack up the chemicals," I reluctantly followed his orders, grabbing the lead balloons swelled by the frothing chemicals I had created the previous night. "We're going to need a lot of protection and we cannot move... We simply can't... I've quickly realised this is our best sanctuary, and the arena outside is frighteningly dangerous. Look, you trust me, right?"

"No."

Leo frowned. "I don't blame you – last night when I left I bumped into the psychopath–" He watched my stern expression. "I know, forgive me... But it gets worse... I bumped into the Five girl–"

"And why aren't I to trust you? Did you make a pact with them or something?" I asked apathetically.

"They're... Well I had to escape from them. They tried killing me and I think they're in an alliance–"

The last word set me off, almost as if a rusty and obscure lever had just been tugged. I wouldn't have cared if Leo had confessed to betraying me, I could've simply used chemicals to liquify him into a fleshy puzzle if that were the case. But he had done something worse by not betraying me – I could not lash out at him, but he had put us in a grave danger. The two people who held vendettas against us had paired together? Did they know where we were? A million thoughts rushed through my head, it was as if I could feel the nervous system in my body communicate. I felt trapped. I had nowhere to run or hide, only a vat of penned up emotions I needed to release–

Leo tensed and followed my state of panic when I threw myself to the ground, screaming horrifically so that dust parachuted from the ceiling.

"Tarren, no, they could find us!" Leo tried calming me down. I had curled up into a ball many times during the Games, but for the first time my Aspergers was controlling me more than ever – I wasn't me for that moment, only a screaming wreck of a girl. Leo tried rocking me, hushing me if I were an infant, though like everybody else he only failed miserably. I made sure he was a blur, taken away from the rest of the world as my emotions gripped me. "Please Tarren, I think we're still hidden! You can't keep on screaming–"

But I did, until another voice decided to silence me.

"We know you're there! Get to the window!"

Leo paused, all optimism seemed to melt into nothing on his face. Avalynn shouted again, this time with a more threatening tone – one that made me whimper. Leo collected his composure as anger fizzled across his soft face, and he moved towards the open window confidently. I watched as he peered out to our enemies, a vague nonchalance in his eyes as he addressed them–

"Oh, you two."

"How pleasant," said Avalynn. "I heard your retarded District partner. Did you two seriously think you could hide from us?

"We know you can't get to us," Leo said.

"We'll find a way," Cardinal said, breaking his prayer like silence. "And when I do–"

"If you do, you'll regret it."

I curled up into a foetal position as Cardinal screamed out vile words and threats to Leo, who replied with scathing expletives. Why couldn't they just go away? I felt we were defended enough – Avalynn and Cardinal, if they dared climb, would only be bombarded with acid. So why was I so scared? I only had a bad feeling about this situation. Maybe Avalynn was aware of our advantage, but I had observed that Avalynn had a strange habit of turning her obstacles into her weapons.

"Cardinal, go up and finish them," Avalynn said indifferently, as if she had asked him to fetch water for a houseguest.

Leo turned and glanced at me, as if he wanted me to do the honours. My instinct gripped me in the same foetal position, but rationality told me to grab the lead balloons filled with steaming acid and defeat an enemy. Would they kill him? I did not know, but what I did know was that he was climbing fast, I could hear him scamper up the ladder leading to the interior of the treehouse. With the balloons in my hand, I peered out of the doorway and into the mad, bloodshot eyes of Cardinal.

His sharp teeth were being used to hold a threatening blade, and when he saw my shocked face he seemed to bathe in the fear, feed on it as if it were his motivation to climb higher. Shocked by my own lack of sympathy, I released the lead balloon and watched as it burst on Cardinal's head. Alas, it did not kill him – but I watched as the acid exploded, bursting so that acid fried his scalp. The psychopathic moaned in agony and fell, gasping as the impact knocked the air from his lungs.

I felt mildly irritated when he rose, laughing as if the pain alleviated him. I launched another acid balloon, though the throw was ill aimed and the acid burst across the ascending ladder and ate away at the wood so that a climb was impossible. We were trapped, but inaccessible. Macabre as it may be, I was pleased that if I died it would be starvation and not mutilation at the hands of a psychopath. Cardinal was ruthless, but Avalynn seemed darker in many ways. I'd feel like an insect under a microscope if she were to kill me, and she'd treat me like a lab rat that needed to be dissected.

Avalynn watched the events with that same scary carelessness.

"You've made things much harder for yourselves."

Leo joined me by my side, holding my hand proudly and triumphantly. "Shut up and go away, Five. We win."

"Starvation is not winning," Cardinal said angrily. "I– I will kill you, you bunch of–"

Avalynn ignored Cardinal's temper tantrums, speaking to us with a raised voice as Cardinal continually slammed a knife into the body of the tree. That calculating look in her eyes told me she was thinking of new and terrifying ways to kill us from afar. "You will both die, I do not break odes. I'm sure you both feel secure in your humble abodes, but I will give you a last option – jump. Suicide will make things much easier, for the both of us."

Leo sneered. It was moments like this when I realised that though he wasn't dumb, he was of inferior intelligence to Avalynn. "You can't reach us you creep. If you don't go I will make you eat a mouthful of acid."

"Go Avalynn," I reiterated.

"Why – do - you - two - not - die – easily?" For the first time Avalynn's temper broke. She whacked the back of Cardinal's head to break him out of his savage meltdown, and glared up to the both of us, taking deep, augmented breaths between each infuriated word. "Fine. You have trapped yourself, and made me kill you a much nastier way. I always have back up plans, and to kill you I need to know no complex science, nor do I need a blueprint or intricate tactic."

"To reach us you need to fly," I explained stiffly. "That's pretty complex science Avalynn."

Cardinal sniggered, as if he knew exactly what the cunning and deviously intelligent five girl was thinking. Avalynn herself decided to break the apathetic facade, smirking in a self-satisfied manner as she opened her backpack and slowly removed a box of matches with an uneccessary flourish. She waved the box violently, listening as the matches produced noise as they collided with the box. The sound of them filled me with dread immediately, and Leo looked stunned next to me.

"I thought you were intelligent, Tarren," Avalynn smiled. "One last equation for you before you perish – fire plus wood equals inferno."

* * *

**I have no time to edit this :/**

**Consider November, my birth month (because days are way too short) a break from fanfiction I needed. And I'm back – though updates are going to be very, very slow until the Christmas season, and then you're going to be begging me to stop updating! I'm sorry, but I really needed a break. I still kind of do.**

**Oh, also, though I'm deleting my Avox story there will be a new story, and it will be an SYOT, posted late December/January. It won't have Tobias or anyone in it, it's a different universe and it's going to be a dual project. You're going to enjoy it!**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Avalynn – winner or victim to be?_

Interview Question: What do you define as 'intelligent' ?


	31. The Explosion

Day Five, Afternoon:

_"Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight  
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light"_

_- Dylan Thomas_

* * *

**Leonardo Brydon, District 10, 16:**

Tarren paused next to me, frozen in shock as Avalynn quickly removed a match, waving it to ensure we could see the very thing that would kill us. Tarren tried to remain calm, but her chest rose and fell eratically, and I knew it wouldn't be long before an onslaught of panic gripped her. I watched with wide eyes as Avalynn struck the match against the box, friction allowing it to spark a flame. The tall, spacious eyed Five girl allowed us to observe the grooving flame before walking over to the tree and swiping the match against it with a blank expression.

There was an immediately effect. The flame glued itself to the trunk of the tree before it cultivated, beginning to grow larger and larger, more than a terrifying manifestation that simply sent me into panic; now it was deadly. As the flame began to colonise, Tarren stumbled back into the room and almost collapsed in panic as I allowed my thoughts to collect themselves together. If Tarren couldn't be rational, how could I ever hope to get us out of here? I glanced at Cardinal who observed our expressions with a psychotic glee, then at a bored looking Avalynn, before I rushed in after Tarren.

"What do we do?" I asked desperately. "We're going to burn alive-"

"Trap door," Tarren said, covering her mouth as the first whisps of smoke penetrated the room. Why didn't I think of that? I thought we were trapped, but I had forgotten that there were two ways to leave the treehouse. With a grin I rushed to the trapdoor, processing Tarren's thought into an action she was unable to do - she still seemed frozen in fear, looking at me as she chewed her sleeve nervously. I pulled at the closed trapdoor once, groaning as it refuses to open. It remained attached to the ground. I pulled again, to no avail, and eventually cursed when my third attempt was futile. It had opened before, so why wasn't it opening now? Perhaps it was the inhalation of smoke, but my breaths stopped completely as a realisation hit me - what if the Gamemakers were expecting this conflict, so they purposely locked us in so that our options were limited?

"Why isn't it opening?"

My words were my defeat. "It's... It's locked."

"It can't be," Tarren laughed nervously. She strode over to the trapdoor with an artificial confidence, groaning as she struggled to release the trapdoor from its locks. She tried again, her desperate pleads and cries beginning to become more audible and desperate before she resorted to hammering her fists against the trapdoor, screaming with an angst that pained my stomach. I forced Tarren away from the trapdoor, which was only useful for taunting and vexing her. I forced her up and looked her in the eyes, though she only held back tears. "I don't know what to do Leo. We're done."

I moved to the doorway and glanced down, only to find Avalynn and Cardinal had disappeared - I had a feeling they were there somewhere, watching as the treehouse and the people in it disappeared in a flurry of orange and red. The flames hadn't managed to invade the top of the treehouse, though they were beginning to climb up the spine quicker than any human could imagine. Slowly they digested and consumed the wood, releasing so much smoke that when I first peered out my sight was hindered by a thick smokescreen. I glanced through the obscuring, choking substance for Avalynn and Cardinal, heat smacking my face as I did so. They were still nowhere to be seen, but I felt their eyes pressing into me. They found this as entertaining as the sick Capitol bastards.

"You bastards!" I shouted out to them, the sound of my voice shooting across the whole forest. "You pair of bastards!"

I turned once again to face my ally, who had resorted to curling up on the floor. In her tears the smoke that had thickly wafted into the room was reflected, and she sank further into a bed of choking soot. I covered my mouth so that I did not choke, moving away from the doorway and avoiding shooting flame that now encumbered the doorway, forcing me to rush over to my ally as the fire slowly seeped into the treehouse, soaking through the floorboards and rotting them away. I gripped Tarren and forced her to stand once again, demanding a solution. I chose Tarren as an ally because she was like a master chess player; for her, there was always a solution. For her, she could take away the 'dis' in disadvantage and manouvre us away from any situation. She was the thinker, and I the doer - so what could I do?

"I don't know," Tarren said. "Leo... We're..."

"Don't say that," I said, tempted to strike her cheek in the way my Mama did to me when I saw a young boy. I thought of her for a second, of how much she needed me - of how much _Tarren _needed me in the same way Blakely would need me if we were in the Hunger Games together. That enough was the thought I needed in order to act, and I embraced Tarren to hold her close.

"I have an idea. Do you trust me?" I asked.

"I..." Tarren winced.

"You have to trust me Tarren," I said, gripping her hand.

"Okay, just get us out of here," Tarren begged as I guided her towards the window. Soon flames had shot up in random areas of the room, and they had to be sidestepped completely. I had to contain my nervous breaths as I cast a glance behind me and observed the wall of flame that claimed the first half of the room - soon it would possess everything, and be eating away at flesh instead of wood. I couldn't allow that.

Tarren seemed almost shocked as I moved towards the window - her eyes raised and she thought I were suggesting suicide, I could almost sense it. If the option came to it, I'd rather die of a broken body than to feel it be burnt away as smoke rendered my struggling lungs defunct. But I did not mean suicide - I glanced at the wave of trees stretched out before us, a welcoming green that healed my eyes of the fiery colours that claimed a majority of the room. Heat was everywhere, jabbing into every part of my body, and those trees were of a jumpable distance-

"They're a couple of feet away," I said. Tarren gasped as I continued talking. "I... I think we can make it."

"Leo... You can't be serious..." Tarren paused, clutching onto the window ledge. "I... I can't... We'd miss..."

"We won't Tarren, we either take a risk and survive of we die here and now!"

"Don't make me do this," Tarren whispered - I saw the sweat that was waxed across her face, akin to the tears that covered the skin around my eyes. I felt truly sorry for her. Tarren usually had an imperious, supercilious and sorted aspect to her. Now the flames highlighted what a weak person she was behind all that - the wounds in my leg throbbed and I clutched her body close, guiding her towards the window and praying that she'd okay. Tarren couldn't make herself jump, so I would simply force her. Tarren accepted my guidance, though she stiffened with the purest fear I had ever witnessed in my life.

"Leo..." She said once last time, desperately. She whimpered and screamed as I launched her out, watching as her body flew ungracefully, scrambling for a solid surface before it sunk into a tree. No cannon followed - she made it! I had to stop myself from crying out triumphantly as the treehouse began to shake and flames moved ever closer, dauntingly slow (the slowness was the Gamemakers responsibility, I presumed). If I died now, at least Tarren would have a chance to win. I crossed my fingers, allowed myself to perch onto the window ledge tentatively, and as the treehouse trembled one last time I forced myself to leap towards the prison of green.

And as I did the treehouse exploded - a last Gamemaker attempt to kill me, but I still survived. Flames were vomitted out after me, almost brushing the back of my head as I plummeted, and then the whole treehouse exploded as the tree itself imploded. Chunks of wood followed me in my falling, the tree collapsed on itself after the flames had destroyed its structure, I did not witness the event but I could hear it, smell it and feel the earth tremble as I landed onto a tree branch and desperately gripped onto it, feeling my muscles strain as force continued without me. There was an awkward clambering down, which my injured leg and freshly sore arm made more difficult, but soon I fely my feet touch uncertain ground and the relief was so much I almost collapsed. This was it. I was safe and well.

"Tarren," I searched around for my ally, moving into the clearing and glancing at the blackened ruins where the treehouse once stood tall and proud. Now it was dead - just like everything else in the Games, it existed only to perish. Maybe the Games themselves were a shortened existance of life - once thing could be certain: things existed to die or be destroyed. "Tarren, where are you?"

I waited for a response, though I was only greeted with silence, which began to creep into me and turn into a laconic panic.

"_Tarren!" _My voice was shrill and sore. There was a pause, and then something hard slammed into the back of my head. I was greeted with darkness, and I slumped.

* * *

**River Virtage, Capitol Citizen:**

"What do you mean she died?"

"I don't know what happened, but Charity and her friends found the house and there was a scuffle," I tried to keep an argumentative edge out of my voice. Olga and I stood in the small, crammed kitchen. We had only just started bickering, and the modified girl stood before me seemed tense and rushed, as if she wanted to return to work. Behind me, with a blotchy face, was my own daughter. "I don't know what happened, but she was pushed back and something happened - and now she's dead!"

"Why the hell was Charity allowed into that house?"

"Just in case she needed sanctuary!" The distress in my tone was apparent. "I don't know... I didn't think things through..."

"Not thinking things through gets us in trouble!" Olga snapped. "If somebody finds out Abigayl Carter has died, it'd be put directly to you and _you _would be executed! And then what about me? If Abigayl is dead, why the hell would she be walking around the Gamemaker offices? I'd be strung up too. Why don't you just think things through for once?"

I tried to stop the tears. "Charity promised that it'd all be okay..."

"Shanae won't tell anybody," Charity said, her voice sorted but with a tremulous facet. She tried keeping stoic and calm. "And Xeniamia is too shocked. I don't think she'd tell anyone... Even though her dad is a Peacekeeper commander..."

Olga took a sip of coffee and spluttered at the very words, dropping a glass that smashed and sent coffee spreading around the kitchen floor. I buried my head in my hands, detesting the stressfulness of the situation. What was I to do? These circumstances were completely unforseen, almost as if someone had made it happen just to make my life that bit more miserable. What if Captain Dohead were to find out what happened? So many confusing thoughts and dangerous possibilities filled my mind. I knew that every plan had faults, but I didn't expect it to be skewered so prematurely, before any of the real rebelling had taken place.

"Where is the body?" Olga asked, nervously twirling strings of artificial blonde hair around her finger.

I paused, a light blush hitting my cheeks. To avoid the humiliation, I bent over to pick up the shards of broken glass whilst Charity answered Olga's question. "She's buried in the garden..."

"You're joking?"

"I'm not jok-"

The front door was forced open, shaking unstably on its hinges as Shanae forced herself through the frail door, which was feebly locked. She walked into the kitchen, tears staining her face. There seemed something different about Shanae - she was a typical Capitolian, though good at heart. Though it was spring a pseudo winter air had reddened and numbed her face, her neat hair hidden behind a hat. She observed everyone in the room, almost jumping when her eyes met Olga - but she remained rational. She knew that plastic surgery existed, and she also knew that the real Abigayl Carter had certainly died. It was her own friend who killed her, and she was the unfortunate spectator she was suffering from emotional consequences. Her eyes seemed languid, her voice more collected than her expression and she spoke with a mellow stone.

"Captain Dohead is coming," she exhaled and exalted breath. "He wants to talk."

"What?" I paused. "Why?"

Shanae shrugged. "He'll be here very soon."

"Okay," I paused, turning to the taller, blonder girl and glancing at my petite, doe eyes daughter, rushing them through a suppetitious door that lead into a dimly lit room hushedly, not wanting to attract any attention. "Charity, take Olga into the back room and maybe into the garden - quickly, she can't be seen here. We're hardly the kind of people who associate ourselves with Gamemakers, we'd arouse too much suspicion. Make sure the Gamemakers do not see her."

I slammed the door behind them and turned to my daughter's only friend. For that, and for her displayed loyalty, I trusted her. "Is she telling him?"

"I don't think so," Shanae said. "She's too shocked to talk. And if she wasn't shocked, she wouldn't do it."

"And why is that?" I asked, as tender and genteel as possible.

"Because she did it," Shanae brusquely replied. That was a good point - not just would Olga and I be transported to the gallows, if the murder was discovered Shanae would follow. The justice system was very harsh in the way that, no matter who you were, or the circumstances behind murder, you were always packed up and executed if you had taken a life. _'An eye for an eye'_ was the blind phrase that gripped Panem's judicatory, and though I disagreed with it I was thankful that it would muffle Xeniamia's telling lips. Though I was still worried - if there was one thing the recent event had taught me, it was that secrets weren't really secrets in the sense that they were almost always discovered.

After my ponderings, through the open doorway came a tall, athletic looking man with dark eyes. His harsh appearance and darkness made him resemble his daughter before she had gone through numerous alterations. He paused, glanced at Shanae and I, and then came into the kitchen. I closed my eyes and expected handcuffs to bind me, or to hear the declaration of my arrest, but he looked at me quizzically. We shared a brief look - I knew of Captain Dohead well, not because our daughters were 'friends,' but because his sordid actions had led to me firing up many protests.

"River," he said in cold acknowledgement.

"Good day Captain," I smiled to Shanae. "You can go now."

She reluctantly left the room as Dohead continued talking. "I know that we aren't best friends River, not do we agree on things, but I must consult you. Recently - after the girls hung out or whatever kids do - Xeniamia had been acting strangely. Almost as if her behaviour has been... altered." There was an accusationary and stern look. "Delia and I are considering consulting a counsellor, but we decided to ask the parents of her friends first. Has anything happened? Shanae herself seems very shocked..."

"Nothing I'm aware of," I dismissed, turning away from him.

He leapt forwards like a panther pouncing, his paw locking me into place with his muscular strength. My heart froze, though there was something caring and tentative in the way he turned me around to face him, his dark eyes glued to my own.

"This is from parent to parent," he said, almost hushed. "Please - if my daughter is in trouble I'd do anything to help her. What's happened?"

The lie I told make me feel like an evil person. "I do not know Captain Dohead. I'm sorry."

* * *

**Vigil Hatzhardys, District 12, 18:**

"Vigil, it's her time," Layla said, meekly walking into the clearing. The knowledge of Helen's approaching death was greatly daunting, thus I had stayed in this empty clearing to put my ill mind at rest. Visible due to the lack of trees, the sun was showing the first signs of melting into the horizon and allowing the night to seep in. Today had been warm, though now I was interrupted by the most chilly cold. My mind tried to swirl away from anything but Helen, though that was a near impossibility. My stomach churned as Layla drew closer, kindly perching herself on the rock next to me and placing a small hand on my shoulder. I wanted to flinch, but I couldn't even do that.

"Her time?"

"I think she's going," Layla said sensitively.

"She has no time Layla," I said, almost bitterly. I had no qualms with Layla, though there was an underlying resentment that she couldn't rescue Helen. She had the best healing skills, being the daughter of a medic in District Five, but she herself was unable to save my close friend. She didn't detect the growing infection that rotted away at Helen's body, nor could she stop it now. It was too late. And yet my anger was directed towards Archimedes. Layla had proven herself inefficient, but would she have needed to prove herself if that evil District Two bastard didn't show the evil he did? A faint anger burst inside me, and I stood up hastily. Layla meekly mimicked me, the wind blowing through her hair as I pondered. What did Helen die for? For the stupid victor? That is what she died for.

I wished Helen had the guts to kill one of them, to get shipped off back to the Capitol where the surgeons could save her within meer seconds. But she couldn't do that, she couldn't let the Capitol exert their revenge onto her family. I almost couldn't blame her, but I'd have done things differently if I were her - I was keeping my temper in check to keep my family were safe, but they abandoned me a year ago. They couldn't stand me. If only I could kill one of them for Helen now, to save her. Though, I miserably noted that it was impossible. I could only kill for myself. And was I willing to do that? I glanced at Layla as she started her return to camp. No, I couldn't hurt a human for purely selfish gains.

I reluctantly followed Layla, almost crying out in anguish as I saw Helen. She lay, covered in anything we could get to insulate her, her skin pale, her body twitching and her eyes threatening to close over for good. Layla moved to my ally's side, resuming her role as nurse until the very end. Rayann and her mother simply observed the scene, somewhat apathetic. I hated them both, Helen told me to keep them to help me. What help were they offering? They were just watching her die, watching her be taken from me, and they wouldn't do anything!

"Helen," I said, smiling falsely as I sat by her side.

She looked up to me, her weak eyes having life come into them again for that brief second with a bright acknowledgement, turning my false smile into a genuine one. I held my ally's hand in goodbye, squeezing it lightly and truly recognising her dying state when I felt her lack of pulse. Helen glanced at me, her lips struggling to curl into a smile, and then released all her tension and lay back. Though her arm dared to stray from me, she wasn't dead yet. She wanted me to hold her until the very end.

"I still have my screwdriver," I said, rummaging into my pocket and removing it, allowing Helen to feel its texture. "See? Isn't that nifty? Do you remember when it saved you, all those days ago?"

Helen's spare arm pointed towards her book, the one she had gotten from the treehouse, the one that still lay by her side.

"She wants you to read it to her," I said, my mind recalling a conversation we had, and the wish my dear friend made. "She said before she died she wanted that book to be read to her before she died. She needed to hear the conclusion of one last story. You can read, right? I'm aware that education standards in the lower Districts aren't the best."

Layla took the book and flicked through the pages, still damp from being flung into a river, her eyes struggling to read the dying ink that rested on the pages. "Yes, yes, I can read it, how far did she get into it?"

"She got pretty far," I replied. "Last page."

Layla moved a chunk of pages until the last one rested on the right hand side of the book, unexplored by eyes. She glanced towards Helen meekly and smiled. "Are you ready? There isn't much left Helen, hang in there, you can hear it - _Another mystery was solved, and Tomas watched over the same old room, still locked by the same old key the mystery had revolved around. And he knew that there, in the horizon, beyond that room, was another adventure that he and Lily could both solve together. The recent events in the house had brought them together, and though they said goodbye and both departed, they were still a team. Friendships didn't ever have an ending. Nothing ended. Though books can run out of page, myths run out of words, and people run out of breaths the story of the world was never ending, and stories themselves were unique in the way they did not perish. Tomas turned his back to the door, grinned, and walked away from the door. Assured that somewhere out there was another story he could tell, another mystery to solve."_

"Vigil," Helen's last breaths were released as Layla closed the book with tears in her eyes, and her arm went limp. The ninth cannon dominated the still air, and I watched as my friend turned from an intelligent, bright girl into a cold corpse. Her family were probably watching, feeling ten times the pain I currently felt. And yet, how could anyone be as agonised as I? The emotional pain was so much that to release tears was too demanding, to think mournful thoughts hurt too much. I was struck by an emotional numbness. That book was right - only the living had an ending. While Helen died, nothing happened to the external world; some people cried, but the sun was setting as it always did and the world went undisturbed. And yet my inner world, the inner world I was barely aware of, was struck by disaster. In my world, the sun refused to set, the world was struck by comets and earthquakes and life as I knew it perished before my very eyes. Time would slowly repair this, because all things came together (I as a private investigator knew this myself).

"I'm sorry," my parting words were said, and I allowed Helen's arm to rest on the soft grass as she slipped away.

* * *

**Aibileen Karpis, District 6, 16:**

We had spent the day following the river Dannielle had almost fell into, carefully walking down the steep hill that seemed to plummet down with the waterfall. The walk down in itself had taken at least twenty minutes (and that made me shiver in fear – imagine if Dannielle had slipped into the river, only to be hurled down such a large waterfall). My thoughts were still muddled and confused, adrenaline from earlier still decided to make its presence felt.

Since having her life saved Dannielle seemed a lot more affable – I think it was because she had a reason to trust me. She even smiled at me randomly, just to offer me a soft reassurance. The Three girl was certainly more skilled than she seemed, somehow managing to distract the most terrifying mutt I had seen and tricking him to fall to his death. Though I myself had an unsubstantiated feeling that Dannielle would have died if I were not there to launch her back onto solid ground. I had seen something genuine in Dannielle that time, the desperation and shock in her eyes as she felt herself dangle off a frail branch and into a torrent of death. Maybe now we could finally establish a trust, a friendship – not just a measly alliance that had betrayal set as an ending.

"What's that?" Dannielle asked, pointing at a fortress of rocks that presided over the waterfall, preventing whatever the waterfall had launched from ever escaping its rocky city. In it, one of the objects trapped was eerily familiar. It seemed as if a wet, grey rug had been dominated by the raging waters, though a second glance showed me oozing blood that dyed the water and jutting bone. The wolf that had attacked us, that had fallen into the water, was that what it was?

Dannielle squinted, her bruised face realising what the thing was soon after I did. She gasped, realising how close she was to suffering the same fate. I imagined the situation myself: searching for my ally, being pleased to spot a clear water source and being sickened and disheartened when noticing that floating in it was a broken column of flesh and bone sporting stray strips of tatted, blood soaked blonde hair. The image in itself was bad enough. Dannielle paused in shock and horror, whilst I listened and contemplated when a cannon made its noise.

We filled our water bottles, irrationally being as diligent as to make sure that the strands of blood being released by the mutt's corpse did not ease its way into our water bottles. I took a good few swigs, my slightly parched throat feeling the relief of being rehydrated. With a small smile, we both rose and began to amble along the river bank.

"Someone's died," Dannielle said matter of factly. I responded with a solemn nod. "So six got it in the Bloodbath, then the Eleven's met their end and there was someone else today. That means that there are nine corpses, fifteen live tributes and thirteen potential killers. And a victor and her friends."

'Are we going to kill them?' I signed.

"If we can, I doubt we'd be lucky enough to take the option," Dannielle sighed. "We'll just focus on opposition, and kill the victor if she makes herself clear. Victor or not, there are thirteen people out there. To think it started off with twenty-two! Don't you feel like a survivor? We have a real chance here."

Frightened by Dannielle's uncharacteristic optimism, I nodded, though I felt myself disagreeing. We'd either die or get home by catching the victor, I just knew it. Thirteen tributes alive, certainly – but at least three of those where Careers (and that was if we were fortunate). And disregarding those Careers, there were other tributes out there who had gotten intimidating scores. Tributes I saw as 'almost as threatening' as the Careers – the Eight boy, the Nine boy and the Twelve girl being the main ones.

"Who do you reckoned kicked the bucket?" Dannielle asked.

Holden. My fears told me Holden had died, but an even more unreliable part of me told me Holden was alive and more intimidating than I could comprehend; I saw him rescue me from those moving trees, a godlike look in his eyes as his hands seemed to manipulate and command fire to do his bidding, to render strong trees into a skeleton of carbon. Holden wasn't going to lose soon – he was like a mythical creature, like Prometheus.

"I'm hoping it's the One boy, he has the best score–" Dannielle paused when she noticed my expression. Something had flashed into my peripheral vision, though it had ebbed as soon as it had waded into my line of sight. I tentatively looked again as Dannielle put her hands on my shoulder reassuringly. "Something up?"

There I had seen a hooded figure – I'd say a demon and make myself a laughing figure, though Capitol scientists were able to create much more unbelievable things. This thing seemed as real as anything else; tall, draped in robed so dark it seemed as if shadow itself fell from it. In its hood was a tunnel of nothingness, though the thing that had caught my eye was the glaring silver of a steel hook, one that was blood stained and being cleaned by the very creature. When I looked again, hood and hook had both gone.

"What did you see?" Dannielle said, looking at the vacant, muddy bank where the creature had once stood.

'Nothing,' replied I in sign language.

Though I wanted to say something – I had seen the 'hooded claw.' That was what I nicknamed it in my head anyway, and it was the most terrifying thing I had seen in the arena. Not just because it could seemingly appear and disappear at will, but because it felt like a mutt or a trap. Though most mutts or traps were threats, that very creature seemed to have an aura of death itself.

* * *

**Well hello! Looks like I'm back in the swing of regular updates, go me!**

**The death this chapter is the start of many deaths. Each one is going to make me progressively guilty :( seriously, why am I sent such great characters who I develop and grow attached to only to have them get stabbed, thrown off balconies, horribly infected etc. etc**

_**~Toxic**._

_Capitol Commentator Question: Helen – opinions?_

Interview Question: What kind of ending do you like, a happy or sad one?

**Bonus Super Fun Song Contest: This is a contest that's going to be done every three chapters and whoever wins gets a sneak previews of the next chapter via PM. Nifty? How do you do it? I will ask you to listen to/google the lyrics of a song (I can be diverse, it might be a catchy pop song or an operatic one, a heavy metal song screaming for government shutdown or a country song crooning about how great cows are) – then you interpret it into a scene, character or relationship in this or the previous story. More original, the more chance of winning.**

**Example: Burn baby burn could be the recent treehouse scene, and God Save the Queen by the Sex Pistols could be about River and her plotted rebellion. Get it?**

**This week – Adele: Rolling in the deep. Like it or hate it? I don't care, interpret it.**


	32. The Hero

**Never have I done an authors note before the chapter has started (Passing down the sword doesn't count), but after writing a certain part of this I thought this was needed. Basically, though I've only hinted at it very lightly to keep this story T, there are dark things that happen in this chapter. Very dark. I apologise if I have caused any offence.**

* * *

Day Five, Night:

_"An evil person is like a dirty window, they never let the light shine through."_

_- William Makepeace Thackeray_

* * *

**Vigil Hatzhardys, District 12, 18:**

Helen's body was left well alone - the goodness in me wanted to swaddle it in blankets and keep it warm until the hovercraft could reach her and take her away, but Rayann swiftly and insensitively reminded me that little mattered. She wouldn't feel the cold wind that I felt, if a thunderstorm happened she could never feel the rain fire onto her or feel angry and irritated that such weather had taken an unexpected turn. I watched as drops fell through the spindly wall of trees, small drops leaking through as thunder ravenously claimed the skies again. All this, unlike Helen, I could feel - and why? Did I deserve it like she did? No. I did not deserve it.

"This should be safe enough," Rayann said as we reached a patch of shelter, where the trees had thickened so that only the occasional drop of rain interrupted us. Though I was shielded, I looked out at the storm that had been brewed by the night and hoped that the hovercraft had picked up Helen by now. It was getting delayed, and I dreaded to think of the things that could happen to her fragile body. The Gamemakers had killed her, wasn't that enough? They had killed her and yet they did not possess the simple respect to pick up her body and ship it home to her devastated family, they wouldn't grant her that one thing. The anger inside me grew to be too much. I hated them.

And yet I hated the boy who did this to Helen. 'Infection' was the simple scapegoat, an unkillable entity that was supposed to make me feel as if Helen's death was purely accidental. And was it? No. I remembered the District Two boy who gave her a wound, the very wound which incidentally happened to kill her. In my eyes, the District Two boy had murdered her in cold blood, though he hadn't the decency to do it immediately - he instead made her think that she had only been given a scratch, and then smirked in his comfortable career camp probably knowing that Helen would slowly sink into nothingness as he charged in as a potential winner. Everything was so easy for him. I knew in his expression that he saw himself as the pinnacle of intelligence and for Helen's sake I was going to prove him wrong. Did the Capitol accredit him for my ally's death? It was usually filled with tallies of all twenty four tributes, listing how they died if they were deceased and stating their killer for the Capitol to see. If the tributes were alive, the list of tributes they murdered glowed next to her name. So was Helen killed by Archimedes, or by 'natural causes' - what did the Capitol think of it? Was Helen's name unfairly placed next to Archimedes', the man who she was so much better than?

In my eyes, it should be. He should be labelled as her killer. And if Archimedes' name wasn't there, then her death should at least be credited to 'a corrupt, murdering totaliarian government.' All of the dead tributes were murdered by that entity.

"Are you okay?" Rayann sat next to me, watching her friend and mother build a fire together.

I was taken aback, Rayann was usually silent and contemplative. Now she was here, talking. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me," She snorted. "I know you're not."

"I lost my ally, I'm not exactly cheery - but who is the Hunger Games?"

"Careers, psychopaths," Rayann chuckled. "The ones who enjoy the death."

"Helen was the one who kept you, you know," I said, thinking of her again as I stared into the unforseeable distance. "I would have disposed of you. I didn't have to be your guardian, we could have left you for twenty four hours and hoped that in that time you'd be solo again or find new 'guardians.' But Helen kept you. Not just because there was a goodness in her heart, but for pragmatic reasons too; you've won this before, right? That means that you could easily win it again."

"Dangerous logic. I've won it before, yes, but I wouldn't know how to make a 'How to win the Hunger Games' manual," Rayann responded.

"You could get me through this, for Helen?"

"I hope."

"She's the reason you're here, with supplies - now she's dead," the slight venom hit my voice. "Could you please find it in yourself to respect her?"

Rayann winced, stung. "Yes, I'll try. I might be acting like the careless bitch right now Vigil, but I'm not, I promise you that. If there is anyone who knows how you feel, it's me. Did you watch my Games?" She didn't wait for my response; I refused to watch the Games, I despised the bloodthirst in it long before I had been reaped into it. But how could I not know about Rayann and her ally? They were loved by the Capitol media, branded 'girl power' - even the Capitolites were upset when Bethuny had died. Girl power does it again! Do girl power have the possibility of winning together? Girl power picks up Six girl as ally. Rayann sobs as she loses her ally, will she herself win? The flood of newspaper articles sifted through my memory with a sigh. "Bethuny was kind, she was a lot like Helen. And I thought I wouldn't, but I cared for her... she was a winner to me. I was devastated when I lost her."

"So what did you do?"

"I lost myself," Rayann said. "So compared to me, you're doing pretty well. Keep yourself in tact."

"I want to get revenge," I paused. "Is that bad? Rarely am I angered, but I have the overwhelming desire to kill the man who did this to Helen. To me, that means more than winning. I care little for winning or losing now, I only care that the one who killed my friend doesn't recieve such an honoury title."

"Revenge is natural... And contrary to belief, not a dish served cold, but served unexpectedly," Rayann smiled. "When a bad person commits all their atrocities, they expect lamb and are instead forced into eating chicken."

"Then why aren't they eating chicken?"

The audience did not know who I meant, but Rayann did. The Capitol - the ones who truly committed the crimes. "They'll eat chicken one day Vigil, maybe not in our lifetime, but platefuls of it are building up with them. And with this massive delay, to worsen things, the chicken they eat will truly be spoilt and mouldy."

"You killed the guy who killed your ally, right?" I paused. "How did it feel?"

"It feels... Not good, so to speak, but you really do feel a gain from it - the death of your ally, everything they lived for, doesn't seem to have been in vain anymore," Rayann sighed, standing up and brushing the dirt off her. She looked slightly tearful. "And then you watch as the murderer in front of you slips away, and you become what you despised in that person. You have a feeling ironically similar to the feeling you get when you lose someone close to you... it's upsetting seeing someone's dreams, ambitions and life dissolve before your very eyes. But this person deserves it, because they were evil, right? That's what you use as an excuse, but the excuse's power to reassure you is pathetic."

"But you'd do it again for Beth?"

Rayann grinned. "A million times over. I kind of have a question to ask you, I suppose I'm cooped up in an alliance with you... but say you die, no offence, I'd kind of want to see the people I'd have mentored. The people from my District. Are they alive? Where are they?"

"Five boy kicked the bucket in the bloodbath," I explained. "The Five girl... She's alive, but I'm not sure she'd accept you with open arms when she could just kill you and go home. She's very detatched."

Rayann laughed, and followed it with a sad sigh. "Detatched Five girl and a Five boy who kicked the bucket in the Bloodbath? History truly does repeat itself... Poor guy. And poor Brydyn."

I presumed that was her District partner the previous year, and smiled at her reassuringly. There was a second when Rayann smiled at me, and her subtle inner warmth made itself apparent - it was a very quick flash, but I detected it anyway. Briefly, my hand moved over to Rayann's and squeezed it reassuringly. The situation still made me feel rather ambivalent, and whether I regretted winding myself with Rayann and company was something I'd probably never know, but I was here now. And Rayann was a winner who knew what it was like to lose someone - there was certainly a similarity there. Outside, the drizzles of rain were audible.

"You're a very sorted person. Very different from the 'hot headed girl' the Capitol anticipated."

"Thank you, but I'm not hot headed - I'm just a bitch," Rayann laughed. In the distance, she heard the irritated call of her mother and rolled her eyes, turning away from me. "That woman always has something to complain about. You'd think she'd drop her pretentiousness and domesticity in the freaking Hunger Games, right? Mothers - or people, irritate me greatly."

* * *

**Tarren Keenan, District 8, 15:**

Everything was groggy and slowed down when I came back into the world. I remembered the adrenaline rushing through me as I was launched into the tree, the fear of trying to find Leo when the treehouse exploded... There was no cannon, and only panic surrounding me. I was too terrified to call out for him, the unfamiliar adrenaline rush had muted me. My lungs were clogged from smoke, it was darkening and panic had settled into me. I moved around frantically, trying to find my ally as he called for me. Everything was rushed, everything was desperate, and then something hit my head and there was darkness. Now the desperation that coursed through me was replaced by a slowness, a groggy feeling as I woke up, my hurt head throbbing.

Where was I? I reached for my wound, which stung as a small bit of blood flowed into my eye slowly, kind of like treacle. Yet my hand was restrained, bound by what felt terrifyingly like rope. I tried to stand up desperately, crying out, though to my dismay my legs were bound together. What the hell? The darkness suddenly weakened, next to me was a groggy Leo. Both of us tied up, both of us with a wound on our heads, both of us slumped onto a rock, placed back to back after almost being burnt to death by two deranged tributes. What could this mean? My heart froze... No, surely not...

"Leo..." I whimpered.

"He can't help you," the yellow eyes came out of nowhere. Really, they were black caves - but iron defficiency had added a terrifying, luminous yellow aspect to them. Cardinal's hair was thinned and frail, burnt by acid. His face as bloodied and bruised as ever, and.I could notice a stab wound on his body. Leo and I had escaped Cardinal so many times, we always came out on the winning team. I was reassured by that. And yet we were propped up against a wall, all tied up. Was this whole event inescapable? I thrashed frantically and screamed.

"Leo, Leo - what do we do?"

"Let her go Cardinal!"

"Leo, Leo, we're-"

"Shut the fuck up," Cardinal commanded, a sharp stinging sensation hit me as he brutally smacked my cheek, knocking the words out of my mouth so that the terror into me condensed into a small, quivering fear. I glanced up at Cardinal, whose greasy hair fell onto his once handsome face. He showed me a toothy smile, though only his canines remained intact in his gums. "Now Tarren, no curses. And you Leo, don't play any heroics. Because now you're tied up. You know what that means? You are unable to move, and while I have a dagger I can kill you."

"Where's Avalynn?" Leo remained composed, though tears formed in the corner of his eyes. His bound body trembled as I leant back, our heads uncomfortably pillowing each other.

"She's gone," Cardinal sniggered. "She left me to have all the fun, the bore didn't really want to contribute to your deaths. She left as I promised her that I'd have you two dead for her - though I didn't promise a certain time period in which you'd die. I'm going to unfortunately keep you two alive for a long, long time." He gave a biting laugh, sending waves of terror into my mind. "Oops - it seems as if you're going to endure pain and torture, now isn't that fun?"

"Don't you dare hurt her," Leo snapped.

"Or what?" Cardinal laughed. "What will you do?"

Cardinal rushed over to me, I screamed and tried to flail away - Cardinal was going to prove to Leo that he could hurt me as often as he liked, for to him Leo and I weren't humans - we were objects to be played with. Leo thrashed, crying out with vexing expletives as Cardinal drove a knife into my stomach. At first I didn't feel the pain as I watched the knife bury itself in shallowly, blood oozing out of the wound as horror went through me instead of pain. Then the pain sank in, a dull aching one, and I leant back and sobbed. Leo saw me as the rational one, but right now I only felt like an abused child. I always complained that my Aspergers was misunderstood, my mother didn't follow my schedule correctly, the District was treating its residence badly. But now all I wanted to do was go home. Hell in comparison seemed better than this.

"Oh shut up you whiner," Cardinal sneered. "It was a scratch, you'll live."

"How dare you Cardinal... If I could... If I could..."

"'If' being the key word," Cardinal laughed. He went on an evil, psychopathic tangent and I observed the room around me. The cave was empty, the only distinguisable aspect of it being the wide open mouth which was concealed by a curtain of rain whilst lightning occasionally struck the ground. I noted that the slightest noise scurried around the hollow, spherical area of the inner cave. Other than that, I could make out a small pile of supplies that belonged to Cardinal. Everything was bleak, the situation seemed truly inescapable. Why was I here? I was going to die... Oh god... Oh god... The rope felt so uncomfortable, it rubbed against my skin in the way I hated. The room was empty and dead, the sounds of the storm were too much for my senses.

"Why me?" I sobbed, interrupted Cardinal from his 'inspirational' and nihilistic speech.

"Why?" Cardinal leant down again, looking into my eyes. "There are many reasons why. You thought you could defy me, you smell delicious - you're an irresistible victim Tarren, if you get what I mean." He leant in and smelt my neck, sending a strange new kind of terror in me. What was this? I felt Cardinal's teeth brush my neck and squirmed, preferring death to this situation. Leo protested in the background and the situation became much more terrifying when psychopathy wasn't the only nature behind Cardinal. What if there were sexual motives too? I whimpered again. "Also, you're a human, and I hate those. I want those to die."

"I have parents," I said, feeling truly pathetic as I begged for mercy. "I have a mum and a dad... Please... Just kill me... Show some mercy..."

Cardinal sneered. "I have no mercy for you, pig."

"You really are a dirty bastard," Leo said, his voice filled with an anger I had never detected before. He always displayed heroics, but this was the first time I had truly detected a fury in Leo. He shook with rage, I could almost imagine his eyes darkening as Cardinal moved towards his supplies for some food. "You truly are evil. I don't know if there's something in your genes, if you weren't raised right or something, but you truly are the scum of the earth with no value placed on life. And do you know what? I rarely hate people, but I hate people like you. Do what Avalynn does and kill people, but don't you dare let them suffer. They don't deserve that, and you don't deserve the pleasure. You are scum. And do you know what? You lose. The villains always lose in some way or another, you know that right? You might have us tied up, you might even almost try to kill us, but you won't win us. You won't beat us. You know why right? Because you are scum. Do you hear me? You sir, are evil scum. I might die, Tarren might die, but we're the winners here. You lose. Bad people like you will always lose."

Cardinal's eyebrows raised, taken aback my Leo's monologue. "Brave Leo, do you know what I have to say in reply?"

In a split second there was a dull thud, the sound of my screams, and a sharp cannon. The knife in Cardinal's hand had been ejected and now lay, resting in Leo's skull. My ally, who once leant back into me, fell forward so that his bound body lay on the ground, blood pouring out of it and onto the stone cold floor of the cave. Cardinal looked at the body, disappointed that my ally hadn't endured any true pain. I envied Leo for his early escape, and admired him for the bravery he displayed. He had tried to protect me to the end, but it was all in vain now. I shook and screamed, screamed so hard my lungs clenched and begged for oxygen, my tear ducts were in agony - everything held both physical and emotional pain.

"Do you want to end up like your ally?" Cardinal said, leaning down and grabbing my jaw to hush my screams. The tears still remained, the terror still lingered.

"Why won't you just kill me?" I said quietly. "I'm already dead."

"Oh, little Tarren," Cardinal sighed, shoving me to the floor so that my face landed in a puddle of blood that fell from Leo's corpse. Its metallic taste raided my tongue and nose, I tried to scream but only inhaled more of it in as Cardinal grabbed at my skin, preparing to make me go physical and mental torture. I closed my eyes, begging for it to end, wishing that my ally was still alive to help me through the ordeal. Exposure followed pain and humiliation, hands and knife roamed my flesh.

* * *

**Holden Gray, District 6, 14:**

I had seen flames earlier.

Beautiful roaring flames. I sat on a radio tower, being careful not to fall to a steep death from my metallic perch. It was climbable, but dangerous. That was why certain tributes had kept away from it, adding to my advantage. I was free to do as I wanted, and though the Gamemakers would usually throw something towards me to make me flee, I could see by the beacon in the forest and by the two cannons that had fired that they were having too much of a fiesta to target me.

"Holden," said a voice behind me. I turned to see Callis, his hand caressing my cheek – I remembered all those days ago when he had tried to maul me to death. Now all he did was taunted me – so to see such a horrid creature, with its jaw hanging from its skull, did not make me react anymore. It annoyed me at worst. I snorted with an indifference. "Did you miss me?"

"No. I did not miss you, now begone."

"What if I have some information for you?"

I perked. "Such as?"

"Abe and Dannielle are still alive. None of those cannons were for them. Their faces will not touch the sky tonight," Callis leant in and sneered. "Neither will yours. But it should, shouldn't it? What have you done today? What have you done since the Games started? Absolutely nothing. The Gamemakers will provide you with kindness and mercy, but that will soon diminish. Soon you will be their next target for showing that your only strength is boring the audience, even with your flamethrower."

"I have the power of flame," I replied confidently, pulling the trigger and watching a bout of powerful fire shoot out before me, shining in my eyes before dissipating into the night. "I am invincible."

"Those who think they are invincible are the most vulnerable."

"You are a mere illusion."

"Or am I? Am I a real spirit or a Gamemaker trap? – Either way, I possess the secrets to the arena. Secrets I can trade."

I paused, thinking it through. What was this demented creature that haunted me? It couldn't be real. Things like that didn't exist, I didn't have to be Einstein to figure that out. But I could touch it, speak to it and feel its presence. What one considered reality was debatable, but to me this ghastly presence was certainly real. I paused... Was I truly going insane, or were the Gamemakers using it as an aid, or a guardian? First it had attacked me, but now it could make me win...

I submitted myself. "What secrets exactly? I'm giving you a fair trial. If you prove yourself useful I may just listen to you, even if you did tear off chunks of my skin on the second day."

Callis laughed, standing on the bars of the tower and fearlessly walking behind me, balancing himself like a tightrope walker. I shivered when, as he passed me, so did a cold wind. As he passed, his physicality had completely morphed. He was smaller, and his body was no longer harmonised by stitches and threads. Callis was intact now, but burns covered his disturbing corpse. His hair had changed so it was a startling red, like the flame that had killed him. He was now the Avox boy.

I almost jumped, but swiftly remembered such an action would lead to a messy death. The Gamemakers wouldn't have wanted that – that was why they were manipulating me, trying to twist my mind. Whether that was a good thing or not was something I couldn't make a judgement about. What did they see in me? What did they want from me?

"Still want a little secret?" The Avox boy stooped down, so that his eyes burnt into mine. "After all, the whole country knows yours Holden."

"I have no secrets..."

"You killed me," the Avox grabbed my hair, tilting my head up in his horribly powerful grip so that I was forced to look into his sad, dilated eyes. "Don't deny it Holden, the whole country knows it now. But nobody cares, because I was just an Avox... A filthy little traitor... Just like Dannielle..."

"Dannielle, a traitor?" Curiosity seized me. I paused, one arm's grip tightening on the supporting bar, the other grasping onto the flamethrower in my hand. "What exactly do you mean she's a traitor... Do you mean she's..."

"A traitor to Abe?" The Avox boy sneered. "Maybe."

"Tell me," I commanded, glaring at the boy's malicious face. "Tell me what happened, or I'll make sure you eat a face full of flames." A growing anger burst inside me – a need to protect Abe, the only person who had ever showed me kindness in the arena. The only person I wanted to live. Everyone else in the arena was cruel; they all rejected me. Karble, Dannielle, nameless others. Karble had died on the first day, and all those other tributes deserved their awaiting fate. A new unfound hatred's song was now so audible even I could hear it. I could feel it. They'll all die one day, but not Abe. I couldn't allow Abe to die...

"Okay, keep your cool Holden, because you're going to need it while those flames burn deadly hot," the Avox leant down, so that it was whispering harshly into my ear. "Dannielle is only planning to get herself into an alliance with Abe for one reason – you've known it all along. Dannielle is a scrawny thing with little hope of surviving a physically demanding contest like the Hunger Games. But she's intelligent, she's intelligent enough to seek out and use those who are strong, such as Abe. You've known it all along, haven't you? She plans to use Abe as a vehicle to get her into the Final Eight..."

"... And then she plans to kill her." I finished the sentence, almost as if the words were Abe's future cannon. I thought for a second. It made sense, the way Dannielle was so cruel. The way she told Abe what to do, and she knew Abe was obedient enough to let her, the 'brains' of the group, do everything. She was using Abe and eagerly awaiting a disposal. I thought that Dannielle was just a little selfish, competitive and mean. But now darker adjectives had been flocked into my head – callous, inconsiderate and evil. Evil.

And then the growing anger that had planned to spout out and consume Dannielle in a smoky fury was directed to me. I was just as bad, because I had saved Dannielle's life all while she was plotting to use and slaughter Abe. I could have saved Abe's life, but I was merely prolonging it so that Dannielle could snatch it away. Why didn't I kill her as she lay on the forest floor, as vulnerable as ever? She planned to kill Abe at the Final Eight. We hadn't even reached the Final Twelve yet, there was still time to exterminate the evil.

I gripped my flamethrower close and prepared my descent, startling the sniggering Avox.

"What are you doing?" He asked. It only just struck me that he was still tongueless. Never could he have made utterances in his lifetime; I had liberated him in death, or that was what the numbness and faded guilt told me.

"I'm going to kill again," I replied. "Dannielle is evil. She has to die."

* * *

**Luster Harbetto, District 1, 17:**

Having to spend the evening sitting down with Archimedes was daunting, to say the least. Ever since the day he had first interrogated me, I was slightly weary. I felt like I was stuck in a constantly monitored area, every sneeze and word picked up by unforeseen sound detectors that would alert Archie. Mind you, wasn't Panem pretty much like that anyway? I sat down on the piano, my fingers pressing on the different keys very slowly, my mind terrified that the light sounds that moved around the room would anger Archie as he sank into the chair and read a thick book.

"We're having a meeting tonight," Archimedes said as he slowly turned the page. "Some... Special together time."

A meeting? I was quickly driven bemused by the prospect of 'together time.' Careers spent a lot of time together, but only to use each other - each Career knew their alliance was the advantage that drove them into the final eight, so that they could continue the journey of killing and rampage, but only on each other. But Archimedes, relaxed in his chair, made me feel as if together time was some strange family event. I paused before talking, gathering my words cautiously. "Like... A meal?"

"We've ate today. We're saving our supplies," said Archimedes austerely, ignoring the fact that we probably had enough food to last a month. I rose from my piano stool, closing the lid of it carefully as Melanthe casually strode into the room, her hair damp and washed from the dirty shower in the bathroom. Looks like it had been taken advantage of. "Luster, I must compliment you on your playing. You have good... co-ordination," Archimedes' compliment made me shiver. It was more an observation - he really was constantly analysing me. "Melanthe, why is your hair wet?"

"Shower," Melanthe replied.

"Oh, what a fantastic way to use our water," the boy said to his District partner. "The Gamemakers could have limited that, and you're using it to look pretty. This is why women shouldn't-" there was a pause, and he grinned. "Actually, we may have an advantage there. I'm sure your wash will make the night time footage!"

Melanthe looked confused. "Wait, what does that mean?"

"Never mind," Archimedes sighed, moving to the bottom of the stairway. "Astrid, get down now."

"I'm showering!" Came the reply.

"What does he mean?" Melanthe turned to me with burning eyes. I tried to ignore my blush, awkwardness made me hold my fingers together. I couldn't even think about these kind of things without blushing and feeling... And to have to explain it to somebody, to have to explain it to a girl. My heart clenched slightly, and with gritted teeth I told Melanthe, faced away from her in an attempt to mitigate both of our embarrassments.

"Well... You were naked... Capitol viewers might like that..."

"No!" Melanthe's cheeks were tinted a light red, as if a pond of wine was forming beneath the skin. "The Hunger Games is child friendly..."

Archimedes laughed acridly, saying exactly what I thought - but more harshly. "Child friendly? Because people having their throats ripped out on live television is really suitable for bloody children. You have to remember that the Capitol is full of pervs and lecherous men Melanthe, why else are girls occasionally forced to go into the charity rides naked? I wouldn't be ashamed, for feeding their fantasies the Capitol are bound to send you some lovely sponsor gifts if you need them. I'm almost jealous that you have... assets."

"What are assets?"

"He's talking about your boobs," Astrid said bluntly, walking in with water dripping from her darkened hair. She was wearing little, only a towel that was tied around her like a robe so that bare flesh was covered. "Your boobs are your assets Melanthe. Tip from woman to woman."

"Is that appropriate?" I asked shyly, feeling my cheeks burn as bright as Melanthe's.

"You came into the Games with a group of teenagers, what exactly were you expecting Luster?" Archimedes said dryly, turning to Astrid and frowning. "And as for you and Melanthe, I'm afraid that your only assets are your breasts, as I'm afraid to admit I think you're both dunces for using inevitably limited shower water for something as trivial as showering. If we die of dehydration, I'll remember this day."

"We have loads of water," Astrid pointed out.

"It's still limited," Archimedes said. "Now, I've come here to announce something. Our tactic of changing Career group nightly has thus far been unsuccessful. It has been how many days, five days? And, disregarding the Bloodbath, we have only managed to kill one tribute, the Eleven boy–"

"The Ten girl died earlier," I said, remembering drawing the curtain that was like armour to the broken window in the living room, only to observe the two tributes from Ten had both died. I paused, feeling my stomach churn with sadness as I remember seeing her warm eyes up close. Archimedes' sword had killed her, though it had been pretty slow in doing so. I just knew it.

"Yeah, so one maybe two tributes have died by our hand," Archimedes paused. "I can feel blood in the arena fizzle bone dry, and it won't be long until the Gamemakers decide that they want our blood to repaint the arena's floors. Naturally, this calls for a change of tactics. I've decided that every day we'll have two permanent 'teams' that will hunt. One must be range, and one melee. They cannot be from the same Districts as that is bound to tighten some friendly bonds."

"So I'm with Melanthe," I said, my mind calculating Archie's point. "And you're with Astrid?"

"Oh dear," Melanthe said under her breath beside me.

"Exactly," Archimedes turned to Astrid. "So you better be prepared,.. We're going hunting tomorrow."

I thought for a second – the two tributes had always had a rivalry, but now they were tightening allegiances. Their relationship wasn't as strong as Melanthe's and I's, but their alliance certainly was. What were they doing tomorrow night? Were they hunting, or were they going to plot against us?

* * *

**Hello, how nice to see you. You survived the 2012 apocalypse, yes?**

**I'm quite proud of myself for killing somebody so consecutively. And yet I'm struck by guilt - I loved Leo. Yes, he was a hero with a martyr complex, but he was aware of it, and it was a weakness and not a strength. I'm not sure if anyone picked up on the dark things - if you didn't, you'd never truly understand the pain Tarren has gone through. If you have, and you're disturbed, I do offer my apologies, I just grab any character development potential possible. And what's funner than going that extra mile to make Cardinal that bit more detestable?**

**IMPORTANT IMPORTANT IMPORANT: I am doing another SYOT with Europa22, a brilliant fanfiction author! If you want to submit, it's on her page - the story is called 'Blood to blood.' It's extremely AU, so make sure to read the information and send in a character. I always ask readers to take a look at other stories of mine, or for favours, and they're completely optional, but I'm commanding you all now. So after you review, shoo off to that story!**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Leo - opinions?_

Interview Question: Are you going to submit a tribute to 'Blood to blood' ? (Unanimous yes from everyone? Ok).


	33. The Wounded

Day Six, Morning:

_Once you start asking questions, innocence is gone_

– _Mary Astor_

* * *

**Tarren Keenan, District 8, 15:**

Everything hurt.

My body, bruised, violated and cut. I lay on the cave floor, my bruised cheek cold and numb as it pressed against dirt and rock. It was strange knowing that I should be panicking, screaming and wanting to die. But all I felt was numbness – the light scratches and bruises that consumed my body certainly had a physical sensation, but I failed to acknowledge them. My emotional pain was even worse, but I could not feel it though I knew it was there... It was as if my emotions had all shut down as a defence mechanism, because if I knew the pain got to me I'd have been even more hurt. Cardinal slept in the corner, by his supplies – it felt so strange, being so close to a true monster.

Leo's blood knotted my hair together, and dyed it a sickening auburn. I could still taste it in my mouth, and it was disgusting, even though I had tried spitting it out. Using a small bout of energy to roll over, I looked at his body. Muscles were frozen, the body was tense, and Leo was turned so that his eyes looked into mine. Despite the blood and the knife sticking out of his head, there was something reassuring about his face. Lips were curled into a smirk and a victorious glimmer remained etched into his eyes forever. Blood dotted his hairline so that it looked like a revolting halo.

Was I selfish for not truly mourning over Leo? The moment he had died was deeply shocking and disturbing, but from then on the only person I paid sympathy for was myself. I should be devastated at the loss of someone I could have called a friend... I would be upset, if worse things didn't happen to me. Maybe Leo was the luckier one for dying. He didn't feel anything, he just switched off like a machine.

Pain still screamed over my body. And I knew at that very moment – I had to escape. Yes, I was devastated. Yes, I was in agony. Yes... This moment was so dark... To comprehend it would hurt more than life itself... Before the tears formed in my eyes, I repeated the same thought in my head. I had to get out of here somehow. Because if I stayed, this experience that snapped my emotional spine would only be repeated. I'd only be tortured further.

A jagged rock pointed from the cave wall close to me, and usually Leo would say I had analytically escaped using a stroke of genius, all I was doing was following instinct. I moved my bound hands closer to the rock, and began to rub them against it so that the blunt point began to rub against the ropes, slowly cutting into them. It was all painfully slow. During my attempted escape, I remembered something that Leo had told me – his sister, Katya, had been sexually abused. Raped. Would it hurt Leo so much to know that I had gone through the same thing? Thinking of that negative, derogatory word made my heart throb, almost made me lose the will to escape. Yet its repetition in my head motivated me to escape, reminded me how I had to get out of this place. Leo told me that if he died he wanted Katya to take over and look after the family – he needed her to be strong. I was going to set an example for her.

I was going to be strong. Maybe if I was strong, I would show Katya that as horrible our experiences were, they could not crush us. We would not be undermined by men who assumed they could break us through that one, utterly revolting act. Leo always told me he feared his family would collapse if he died. One thing I could do before dying is to make sure that Leo's worst fear didn't come true, I couldn't do much for him in life, but I'd happily do that in death.

And so I continued grating the rope against the rock, continuously watching as the rope withered away, sharply reduced fibre at a time. Because of the bluntness the rock contained, the process took a long time and was often interrupted by the rock cutting my skin. I had to contain myself, and not cry out or worry about the bacteria and the germs that could've invaded by first line of defence. The darkness in the cave was slowly melting into a fierce dawn, which illuminated the horrific scene that I could barely see last night.

And then the rope snapped! My head finally did process an emotion – intense relief. Untying the ropes that bound my legs seemed simple from then on, my hands were efficient enough for that. And then the horror hit me when I stood up, watching as lingering blood trickled down my legs. And it all came real again. The monster curled in the corner of the cave, Leo who lay on the floor, cold and dead. I may have this moment of victory, but that one moment of Cardinal's truly scarred me.

I could grab the knife in his hand and use it to slit his throat. I could run off with his supplies and be able to survive for a good few days. Or... I could just go. Even looking at Cardinal scared me, and I had no idea how light a sleeper he was. If he woke up, my moment of freedom could have been reduced to mere seconds. Tears formed when I realised that if I was caught again... That awful, horrific moment would be repeated, how many times I could never know. And then the physical pain crept back in, and my head hurt and I wanted to vomit.

So I ran out of the cave.

And tried to scream as I crashed into a tall, pale figure. The girl knew exactly what was coming, and covered my mouth to muffle my screams until they ceased. Afterwards she pulled away and looked at me.

"Avalynn–" I started, too shocked to be angry. "What? Why?"

"I'm merely playing the game," Avalynn replied.

"Kill me now then..." I started. "Kill me now!"

"I'm weaponless," Avalynn grinned, almost as if her defencelessness made her superior. "And you are far too precious to kill. I wanted you to burn into nothingness in the treehouse, but I have a far superior plan that would lead to the death of your ally, Cardinal and yourself."

It struck me. Ava was going against Cardinal? "And you're not going to kill me?"

"Your living results in Cardinal's demise," Avalynn snorted, grabbing onto my wrists and pulling me close. Human contact automatically made me weary now, and I tried to stop acting hysterical as alarm bells seized over. Memories of Cardinal grabbing me in such similar ways took over, I whimpered as Avalynn addressed me. To be honest, she wasn't as scary as Cardinal. Frightfully intelligent, scarily perceptive – but she wouldn't do what he did. Even she wasn't that twisted. "Leo was the extra. I knew he'd annoy Cardinal to the point of death... And you, you're a little more smart and quiet. As if Cardinal would just dispose of bodies when he could play with them, right?" Avalynn grinned. "I came to 'rescue' you, though you already did that part for me."

"I had to go..." I said as Avalynn released me, making my stomach churn again.

"I figured – though your torture wounds don't look so bad... Mildly painful, quite bloody, but I was expecting the lack of at least one limb," Avalynn smirked.

"Some things are worse than knife wounds Ava..." I paused. "And they take away a lot more than a limb. They take away your innocence, your sanity, your emotions, your respect and your good memories. I lost all of those last night."

Avalynn's facade of indifference broke immediately. She actually looked shocked, almost as if she could barely comprehend what was coming out of my mouth. I had to escape. The tears started coming, the bile tried coming out of my throat. And so I ran, back into the deep forest. It would be safer there, even with the mutts and other tributes. The numbness I felt when I woke up was gone, only reality struck me. I thought of Leo's corpse, and the traumatised bereaved. I thought of Cardinal, what he done, and how my family would feel. It was as if I could feel last night happening all over again, and no matter how fast or hard I ran, I could never truly escape it.

* * *

**Tobias Harte, Head Gamemaker:**

It was a busy day. After such an eventful fifth day, which had resulted in the deaths of the District Ten tributes, we were going to let Day Six be a small moment of tranquility. Why? Because Day Seven was going to be the most thrilling day the tributes had experienced. And, unfortunately for some, it would lead to their deaths. Day Six was going to be the calm before the storm – though things had to happen. We had to keep the Districts entertained.

"Tobias," the meek Gamemaker in charge of traps, Thursday, knelt down beside my chair, watching the girl from District Seven fiddle with her hair on the screen. We couldn't let uninteresting things go on for too long, could we? "All the trap blueprints have been printed off, we have scientists onto it – we've decided to add five-hundred bombs into the arena, we have the acid shower... Unfortunately, the mechanics are struggling to make a furnace that is big enough to have spaces a tribute can crawl through."

Beside me appeared Persephone, who was responsible for mutts. I knew little of her, but I knew she had a tendency to adopt the craziest hairstyles possible. She was sporting a mohawk which had been dually died gold and silver. "We have the alpha mutt ready. We're planning to tranquillise it right now."

"That's great," I smiled. As said before – the whole killing aspect of the Games didn't really please me, but the eventful day that sealed the Games' first week really thrilled me and allowed my creative juices to flow. I was as excited as ever. "We won't have to worry about a nagging President it seems, everything is going smoothly-"

"May I remind you a girl was _raped _in the arena Tobias," Ruth said sternly behind me, filling in paper work laconically, but speaking up when the time was right. "What do you have to say to that? That isn't running smoothly at all."

I jolted, slightly wounded. "Yes... We made sure that wasn't broadcast... But the President has little reason to complain about that anyway..."

"That doesn't make it anymore ethical," Ruth chimed.

"_Ethical?_" I snorted. "_Ethical? _You are kidding, right? Ten kids have died, is that ethical either?"

"No, but-"

Dr. Carter rushed into the room, destroying the argument with her presence. Ruth didn't really like speaking when Abigayl was in the room, but instead cast her a harsh glance as the environmentalist smiled sheepishly. Dr. Carter had been missing a few days now, and thus we had to use uneducated Avox slaves to control the environment in the arena; they had made it much too pleasant for the President's taste. Why Dr. Carter had been missing, I didn't know, but I did know that if the President ever found out Abigayl would be responsible for mutiny.

"Abi," I forced myself to sound stern. "You've been missing."

"I'm sorry," Abigayl stuttered as she strolled into the room in a rushed manner, throwing her coat aside so that it blanketed a vacant desk. "My mother has been incredibly ill..."

I should have let my authoritarian attitude remain, but it eroded quickly and I smiled. "It's fine, I'm in desperate need for coffee anyway. Do you want to go into the lunch room with me Abigayl, have a nice hot coffee?"

"I'd love to, but I have work to do – and you'll be busy too, your... wife is here."

I paused. Destiny? We had barely exchanged any words since our last argument, apart from sorting out bills, Eldrick's tutoring and piano lessons. I dreaded to think what she came here to talk about – was she finally divorcing me? It was the fear that had been coursing through me, but it wasn't an irrational fear. What else would a woman who presumed her husband was having an affair with his co-worker do? Followed by Abigayl was Destiny, her blonde hair so similar to the environmentalist, an uncharacteristic smile painted across her face. She seemed almost... Happy.

"Tobias," she acknowledged me, walking across and hugging into my back. "I missed you..."

"And I you," I replied, warmly taking in this sweet reception. I closed my eyes and turned to my beautiful wife, kissing both cheeks and thanking whatever was out there for giving me back. We were strong enough for this. "I promise you that."

"I have something to announce..."

"And that is?"

"I'm pregnant, Tobias. We're having another baby."

Across me, Ruth sprayed out the drink of water she had sipped. Abigayl looked around awkwardly – Persephone and Thursday looked at each other, screaming trivially at the good news as if they cared. People always acted as if they cared. An honest reaction was a cold one – and Ruth was being perfectly cold. Destiny hugged me, the good news almost numbing me. Was I euphoric? Was this a moment of candour, or confusion? I looked up into my wife's blue eyes.

"I love you – this will be a fresh start."

She laughed. "It truly will, and I know how happy we'll all be now." She turned around, looking at the ceiling into an invisible heaven, almost as if she were performing on her stage again, dazzling the audience with her speech. "Oh, this is the perfect fresh start for us. I've already called midwives and nutritionists, the baby will of course be perfectly happy. We must buy things for it, think of names – alert the press, of course... Oh, they'll be hungry... And they'll always be prepared to hand in money..." Ruth chose the wrong moment to snort in disbelief, prompting Destiny to turn around and glare at my deputy. "Anything to say, Ruth?"

"A lot," Ruth said nonchalantly, still working on paperwork. "It's rather convenient, isn't it, that you feel your relationship with Tobias begin to dissipate, and now you just happen to end up pregnant. And now you're just willing to forgive Tobias and play happy families so easily? Forgive me for finding that... Strange. We certainly know one thing, no matter your emotions you see a baby as a business venture. You're young Destiny – you know little about children, you'll learn just how valuable they are, one day."

"Ruth-" Abigayl started.

"Oh, are you accusing me of being a bad mother?"

Ruth scowled. "I've never seen your maternal skills... I just disapprove of your coldness Destiny. I understand the love you have for your husband, but I feel as if you take it as a license to act like you own him, like he is your little... Money factory."

Destiny snorted. "Oh, the irony of your statement Ruth. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones – last thing I heard of your daughter is that she ran off to one of the Districts, and rumour has it she returned to the Capitol last year, but she still hasn't made an appearance because she doesn't want to see your ugly mug."

There was a gasp coming from the majority of the room. Ruth recoiled, pain in her eyes as Dr. Carter reacted surprisingly... Indifferent. She just stood there, her jaw tightened slightly as the scene unfolded before her.

I grabbed Destiny's wrists hurriedly. "Destiny, that wasn't appropriate – come on, lets forget-"

Destiny's eyes swelled up with tears. She was geniunely hurt, I could tell it in her constricted voice, but she had chosen a moment to make Ruth seem like the villain. And yet there was some truth in Ruth's words, albeit an uncalled truth. Weren't all truths uncalled for? I desperately needed to jump off the fence, but I held Destiny close because I truly did fear losing her.

"Forget her malicious words."

"She's just cruel," Destiny sobbed. "She only thinks of herself. She hates me Tobias, she has a vendetta against me and she's out to get me." She wailed into me, continuing her upset speech. "She's just jealous because I'm rich, young, beautiful, I've come out of a great career and I'm happy with a family, a loving husband, money and a beautiful child – I have everything she doesn't have. Why does she have to persecute me like this?"

Ruth said nothing in defence, she just threw her pen aside and rushed out of the room like lightning rushed out a cloud whilst it sought ground to strike. I heard a distraught sob, the door slam and then silence took over. I held Destiny close, feeling the boiling drama that had been switched on since the beginning of the year begin to overflow. I could barely stand the light simmer of emotions – but this? And my friendship with Ruth... Mattered so little when I had my wife...

"I'll..." The two Gamemakers got to work, except a bemused Abigayl. "I'll comfort Ruth, wherever she is... Don't you worry about her."

And so Abigayl followed.

* * *

**Vigil Hatzardys, District 12, 18:**

Blankets cocooned me tightly as I awoke. Six days. Almost a week in the arena, which was strange – against all odds, both Twelve tributes had almost fought themselves through a week in the arena. Maybe even to the final twelve... It was dangerously optimistic to assume Reed and I were strong enough to fight our way into the final eight... but that dangerous optimism still remained. And Helen... Helen exceeded her expectations. A smile crossed my face.

Until I realised that she was dead.

My hand fumbled to shake my ally automatically, expecting to feel the warmth Helen radiated in both body and soul. But my small little ally wasn't there anymore. It distressed me greatly to think that she were probably in an autopsy room. And then the pain hit, not so powerful since the time she died yesterday – it was as if the blade that pierced her hit me, the emotional pain tearing through my body and then leaving me shaken and numb.

"Helen..." I mumbled, remembering yesterday.

And then I leant up, looking around for my allies who were alive. Rayann was gone, as was her little friend and tall, graceful mother. Just like Helen, they had gone with the wind that brushed chillingly against my skin, which was now stripped of its armour of blankets. I thought that my mind truly had played tricks with me, but as I stood and allowed the blankets to fall at my feet I realised – to my horror – that none of them were anywhere in sight.

"Rayann?" I remembered the conversation we had last night. If that hadn't waxed our alliance, what had? I shared my feelings with her, and her with me. So I shouted louder. _"Rayann! Where are you?"_

The only response was birdsong as the innocent creatures happily communicated with each other in the trees. I should have been aware Rayann would betray me, her conversation and words last night were probably empty and meaningless. After all, she wanted to coerce me into a sense of security so I could sleep without the fear of her scampering off into the night with her stupid loved ones. The cruellest were the ones who'd do the extreme in order to win.

But her just running off still wasn't logical. How could it be? I was assigned to protect her, and for the interests of my family at home I was preparing to do that, despite the ambivalence I felt. My hands trembled as I searched the area for the victor, and one revelation struck me – I was terrified to me alone. I couldn't be alone in this hell-like career, vulnerable to infernal beasts and Careers who'd happily tear me apart... And why didn't she kill me? Maybe that would have been more merciful, and Rayann's only chance of survival was having all the tributes left until only the victor remained. If she killed me, her extremely limited chance of surviving would increase just that bit more.

And the fact blankets still covered me... A fresh fire still roared by me, all my supplies and foods left there – they had been prepared to feed four for the next few days, but now they had been left, enough to support one for at least a week. My head throbbed, not even I – Vigil Hatzardys – could work out the mystery of Rayann-Grace Carter, despite the truckfulls of evidence left behind. But I could make two feeble conclusions:

_Conclusion One: Rayann-Grace Carter did not betray me. Or she didn't intend to._

_Conclusion Two: I had been lightly aware of it when Helen passed away, but this slapped the revelation in my face. I hated loneliness. Loneliness hurt. Who was Sherlock without an accomplice to help him out? A nobody. _

"Rayann..." I babbled to myself, falling onto my knees and trying to stop the bite of betrayal. But it wasn't betrayal... If Rayann wanted to betray me... She'd have killed me, or surely stolen all of my supplies at least? All that was clear, it fitted into perfect sense. But this didn't. I tried to think of a realistic outcome – and that was that Rayann had died, or at least been taken away. Whether that was better or worse than betrayal was something I couldn't answer. But even that had flaws – for one, the sound of her gong ringing off would have surely waken me. The creature or thing that killed or taken her had also dragged away her friend and mother – I would have been disturbed from my torpor. All the chaos and bedlam would have left showers of blood and more evidence that this, which suggested a gentle departure. There would have been screaming, audible madness-

"She went..."

I muttered it as one piece of evidence revealed it all. Three muddy footprints led away from shelter under the canopy we called our shelter. I slipped away and they left, leaving a muddy trail behind them as they went. I followed it for a while, hoping to catch up to my old allies – to confront and scold them for disrespecting and vandalising Helen's memory in the way they did! Fury enveloped me, but as predicted the vast puddles that had been scattered on the ground made sure that the small trail was destroyed. I was left so alone, and so confused.

If Rayann left without leaving harm behind – why did she leave in the first place? She wasn't the kind of person who did good just to seem like the hero, she did things to survive. Or maybe it was something to do with the dark emotions that frothed in Rayann's mind. And, though a detective can easily find out ones motives, they could never vividly explain ones emotions.

That was the kind of thing Helen was good at... Now she was gone.

And I had to confront my fear, for I was truly alone.

* * *

**Dannielle Wright, District 3, 16:**

Abe and I sat by the fire, watching its embers leap towards the sky, almost as if they were rejoicing. It was a nice moment – we had managed to hunt a rabbit, and after a messy kill we decided to eat the traditional camp fire method, chunks of meat were pierced by our newly sponsored daggers, which we held above a camp fire so that the flames slowly heated and cooked the meat. When the meat did cook, we hungrily ate it from the dagger, ignoring the heated blade that touched and hurt our tongues. The night was tranquil, the air was calm. This moment was just a nice break from all the wolves and evil.

"This is it Abe," I sighed, leaning back and kicking the worn sneakers off my feet. I was slightly concerned my feet would release an unpleasant odour, but I was quickly reminded that Abe and I had been forced into a dirty arena without any way to wash. We both probably stunk, and we were both probably used to it. I remembered the days body odour dominated the air, but my nostrils had almost adapted. I was used to the unpleasant smells.

Abe smiled at me warmly before popping the meat into her mouth, chewing it slowly whilst she contemplated.

I gripped a water bottle and raised it. "Do you know what, Abe, today is a rare day – I feel pleased. How and why when I'm in a fight for the death? We've almost made it a _week _in the arena Abe. This is so good for us, we're just a bunch of District kids after all. District Ten and Eleven are completely dead, the Nine girl, the Seven boy, the Five boy and Karble... We've all done better than them. I don't know, I feel like... This is a good sign..."

Abe smiled agreeably; whether she truly did across wasn't determinable, though. She seemed somewhat gloomy as I raised my water bottle, tipping it in celebration. Abe paused, confused, and then released a silent chuckle before mimicking me and bumping her water bottle into mine.

"Cheers!"

Abe did a quick sign and we both took a quick gulp, as soon as we did a branch snapped behind us. Abe stiffened, slowly gulping the water in her mouth. I paused when a strange look came across Abe's face, she smiled weakly at something, though there was an ounce of fear there. Could this thing be deadly? Abe had been drastically changed since yesterday – were we in danger? Only the Gamemakers would love the irony of us celebrating a week of being alive only to kill us before the week actually hit!

"Abe?" Holden moved out of the bushes, almost shyly, his expression placid and full of caring when he looked at his District partner. Abe smiled warmly, taking him in and striding towards him with a big smile until he did something so unexpected, so quick that my first reaction was to freeze and scream.

He aimed his flamethrower at me and fired.

The jet of flame moved right at me, it was almost too late when I decided to duck so that the embers were running past my scalp. It all made sense – mental jigsaws clicked into place. What could defeat trees? Fire. What did Abe and I wake up to when the trees attacked us? A blackened and burnt forest. And now here I was, noticing that Holden Gray had saved my life only to attempt to claim it back. It were almost as if he were playing god – but why? Why me?

When I stood, Abe was frozen too, looking at Holden incredulously with her kind eyes. Even she could not quite comprehend what was happening.

"Step back Abe," Holden mumbled. "She's evil. I must kill her."

I skirted to the side, expecting the next blast of flame which sent the tree it hit into a conflagration. Holden glanced at the tree, then to my live body, almost as if he were peeved that I had actually survived. His face contorted into a scowl as I shakily shook, prepared to leap away from another jet of flame presuming it came. The muscles in my legs hurt, almost as if the adrenaline rush was too much. I had a knife, I knew that, my hands fumbled for it- but what help will that do? He could just fry me into cooked human before I got the opportunity to stab him.

"What are you doing?" I screamed, predicting his next move correctly as I stopped down, running below another burst of flame towards him, ready to slide my knife into his gut like a knife slipping into butter...

"Exterminating the evil-" Holden said. His eyes were empty, his face was... nothing. It was as if he didn't mean what he said. He was just acting mechanically, and not meticulously – as if it wasn't him that wanted to kill me, something else did. Evil? I couldn't say that, but I could say that he was being controlled. I was tempted to just tackle him, forcing his stomach out was just what the Gamemakers wanted. And I didn't want to give them what they wanted. But they wanted death, they wanted murder... If I had a hope in hell of surviving, I had to at least kill. I swashed my knife out, hoping to slit his gut, but he leapt back, cleverly avoiding my attack.

Abe stood, looking shocked, not knowing what to do now that her allies were finally fighting. She knew deep inside, now she had seen the fire, Holden was the one who had saved her. I knew she preferred him to me, but I also knew that she knew that he was in the wrong this time. Abe was not one to play moral judge, but there were certain instances in one's life that, no matter who they were – a philosopher, an inventor, a peasant – they would have to play the moral judge. This was Abe's time, and she stood frozen, dark eyes wide as if it was she who had a flamethrower aimed towards her. I stood, heart palpitating and knees buckled. I was ready to attack and kill... If Abe couldn't make any response, I would.

Just as I raised my hand, flame consumed it and the shaking knife in it. I screamed, pain invading every nerve in my body as my hand was struck by flame.

* * *

**Poor Dannielle. Will she survive?**

**Sorry for the late update – I'll explain in two words: Christmas season. I have a biology test soon which I'm revising for 'a lot.' I'm not going to even fathom writing until Wednesday the 9th, so if the next update is late, don't be surprised.**

**I hate to bring it up, but reviews have been lacking lately – there's few excuses for it. I spend a good few hours on this, so it doesn't hurt to spend a good few minutes writing a review, especially if you want to see your character continue in it. I'll stop complaining if, by some miracle, I manage to get 600 reviews :)**

_**~Toxic**_

_Capitol Commentator Question: Dannielle or Holden?_

Interview Question: If given the option, would you rather burn to death or freeze to death? Morbid, I know.

SUPER FUN SONG CONTEST:


	34. The Shock

Day Six, Afternoon:

_"Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire, it burns it all clean."_

_- Maya Angelou_

* * *

**Cardinal Volke, District 9, 16:**

I felt myself aware that the morning did not greet me as I woke up. Instead, I was confronted with afternoon sunshine as it painted the cave walls, no morning bird tweeted its tune, the sky almost prepared to descend into sun and moon. My muscles ached - not as if I were one who had been strained and overworked. I had slept too much, so my muscles were punishing me for it. Memories of yesterday coursed through me, and a smile curled across my lips and I stretched like a feline who had enjoyed a good amount of slumber. This was it, my plan was working, everything was perfect. I was going to win the Hunger Games, the bright sun told me that.

"Good morning," I told my prisoner, expecting to hear a whimper or at least for quiet breaths to freeze and turn baited. I face the wall opposite Tarren, so she was not in my line of sight. I rubbed my eyes, still adjusting to the light as I rolled towards the other side with a self-satisfied smile. "When I address you I expect-"

My sentence was shattered when I quickly realised my prisoner was not there. Neither was her shell of an ally - a lot of dry blood was stained into the dull floor, giving it a red vitality, but there was emptiness. Both bodies were gone, their ghosts lingered and sniggered at me as a stray gust of wind carried itself into the cave. I frowned, biting my lip a little. I tied her up, I made sure she was hurt both physically and emotionally, and yet she still escapes. How is this possible? My detective skills weren't too good, but I could spot the cut rope that lay on the floor, dead like the corpse that occupied it the previous night. It seemed as if Tarren had used something serrated to cut the rope down... I felt angry at her for escaping, for possessing the temerity to assume she could escape from me! But then, it was rather foolish of me to think that she wouldn't have tried to escape if I slept. Thoughts rushed through my head, the floodgate of consciousness had been opened; I should've stayed in alliance with Ava. I should have tried staying up last night to watch over her. I should have slept closer to her so that if she moved I'd have been disturbed. I almost cursed out loud for my stupidity.

But then a little optimistic thought permeated through my mind, undermining all of those silly, negative little thoughts. Now Tarren had escaped, I had a proper reason to torture and kill her. I smiled. After our little fun last night, Tarren would be much too scarred to get far.

My lone hand instinctively reached for the knife close to me, and the smile abruptly went away when it grabbed at thin air. I paused in disbelief, scrambling around and looking for my treasured weapon - where was it? Knives just can't disappear! I glanced into the corner, where all my other supplies were, and they were all gone. The acid had just vanished, so had my food, my water - everything.

Not just was I stripped of my right to kill in that one act of thievery, I was now at a liability because I had no resources to survive myself.

It was almost a moment of horror, a lot of frustration. I wanted to scream out and curse the world, grab it's surface so it could be sucked into a vortex to rot in purgatory for the rest of eternity. Not just anger hit me, but fear admittedly swelled up in my core. Where were my sponsors? Why wasn't I getting any repercussions? How could I - or they - expect me to survive on thin air and my own hands? Those bastards were just as bad. They were going to burn in hell too, all of them! I remembered my stupid escort and how self-righteous he was. He was behind all of this, laughing at me like the low life scum bag he was. I hated them. I hated them all.

But then my eyes scanned the wall; it was the most curious sight. As much as I hated my escort, I knew that it couldn't have been him who was behind this. What did he he, go in there and grab the girl and my supplies? I realised that such a theory was stupid when I observed the wall and the writing on it. A small message for me had been scrawled across it, in blood, Leo's blood I'd presume from the crusty dryness is was beginning to adopt. I found it amusing to observe such a pathetic revenge attempt, and yet I was struck with anger and fear when I saw the message.

_Revenge is a bitch, isn't it? _

So Tarren had escaped on her own accord and stole my supplies. I tried to remain calm, but kicked the wall in a burst of fury, screaming out when the pain shot through my foot as the sore bone vibrated. Who did she think she was? To attempt to escape from me was arrogant enough, to steal from me, but to be so open about it and to even leave a message? I wish I had slit her throat as I held her on the cave ground, but the torture was still worth it. She may have that sweet moment of satisfaction, thinking she's gotten the better of me, but even if she did survive this hellhole she wouldn't ever spend a night without thinking of me, of the actions I'd done. I'd successfully scarred her.

Revenge really is a bitch Tarren. And you are going to burn.

* * *

**Aibileen Carpis, District 6, 16:**

There were some things in your life that happened and you couldn't process them, no matter how hard you tried. I'd only experienced such a sensation twice in my life, one was good - when I won my first boxing match and the pride swelled up inside me when I realised that I was good for something, and through it I had the chance to get somewhere, or to fix things that had to be fixed. That was a good sensation. The second time was when I watched children die as I rushed away from the Bloodbath, watching my ally get his throat slit by a callous looking District One girl. That was a bad sensation. And now I was experiencing it all over again as flames consumed Dannielle's hand, burning it away into nothing - and something about that was absolutely horrifying.

The flame didn't work like most flames did, or not conveniently at this moment. It didn't spread around Dannielle's body and kill her in a raging inferno, it merely dissapated as soon as it had appeared, but as it disappeared so did the flesh on Dannielle's arm. She released a bloodcurdling scream, more pained than any scream I had heard before, as she glanced in horror (the same horror was reflected in my eyes, but Holden showed only apathy) at her carbonised hand. With that, she collapsed onto her knees and glanced up pleading to Holden.

"Wh-"

Holden pressed his flamethrower against Dannielle's skull.

"Do you see her for who she is, Abe?" He said. Something about him was blank and detatched. This wasn't Holden... this was a stranger. He pressed the flamethrower against Dannielle's head. In her clenched, blackened hand she still grasped onto a burning silver knife, but it was dead. She had lost this battle. "A witch, ready to betray you."

_No _- that was what I tried saying. No she wasn't. But I had no voice, and I couldn't say anything. Something told me that even if I could speak I'd be unable to do anything. Every muscle, gland, limb and thought seemed stagnant and jarred. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. With a grin, Holden took this as an affirmation and smirked down to Dannielle.

"And all witches burn. It is their punishment."

Did I stopped Holden? I didn't know what to do. What if he was right, and Dannielle had been planning to betray me all this time. But... I refused to take that as a possibility. Maybe at first she would have, but we had talked too much, helped each other out too many times to just turn on each other. Dannielle could only do that if she was truly evil... and if she was, I'd understand why Holden was doing what he did. I'd do the same to somebody who planned to hurt him in such a sneaky, slimy manner. But I'd be furious. There was no sign of fury, not even repressed fury, there was nothing but a blankness in Holden's expression. Every muscle in his facial region was relaxed.

That was enough for me to make my decision.

Holden's finger tantalisingly teased the trigger, though with a speed I had never felt myself run at before I lunged at him and sent me fist right into his temple. It was a clean hit, enough to send Holden coughing on the dirt as she gun spiralled in the air, out of his grip. Maybe I should have killed him, but I had neither the resources or the mental power. Instead I glanced to my ally, still on her knees, silent in terror even though every emotion was rushing through her. For the first time in my life I had seen her sobbing, crying out every tear she could cry. I stooped down and held her face so that she was glancing up at me.

"Abe... I'm in so much pain," there was little else she could say or think. I tried to smile warmly at her, my fingers brushed her tears before I turned to Holden, my old ally, angrily.

_Look what you've done. _I couldn't say it, but my eyes conveyed the message powerfully. Holden spluttered on the ground, holding his bruised head and glancing around as if he had only just been conscious. He stood up, terrified, glancing at the scene he had caused as if only just aware of it. He looked pleadingly to me, though my returning glance was still harsh.

"Abe..." His sentence was interrupted by Dannielle's choked sob. In terror he gripped the flamethrower lying on the leafy floor, before sprinting as far away as possible. I didn't run after him, I merely observed him leave. Maybe I'd regret it, but I couldn't hurt him right now. It didn't seem right. And yet now I refused to think of him as a friend, because if I did that would hurt too much. The person who did that couldn't be Holden, but this is why the Gamemakers played these Games - they did not want the gore, the drama or the games. They wanted to watch as someone lost their innocence, a hero become a villain or observe allies become enemies.

I turned to Dannielle. Now that my adrenaline levels were depleting, my knuckles throbbed slightly, but it could only be a fraction of the pain Dannielle felt. I signed to her quickly with my trembling hands.

"Are you okay?"

"No," replied Dannielle, bluntly, wincing in pain still, trying to hold back tears. She slumped even further on the ground, so that the forest floor became her bed, and the sky her ceiling. "M-my hand Abe... does it look okay?"

It didn't look okay, still, I shook my head and smiled a little.

"If you think it's going to be okay, you're wrong. It's not."

Dannielle's hope had burnt away with her hand, but there was a new drive inside of me. At one point I refused to believe I could take a life, but this really was kill or be killed. If Holden was prepared to turn against me, against my ally, who out there wouldn't he kill? And who out there wouldn't kill me? I glanced up at the sky, giving a suggestive look to any hidden cameras around the area - that was enough to tell the sponsors that if they were out there, we needed them. In my new sense of cynicism, I had been given hope. I'd had enough of sitting at the side helpless. This time I was going to do something.

This time I was going to win.

* * *

**Astrid Evans, District 1, 18:**

"Seriously... no deaths today? I was hoping that someone was going to die. After all the deaths yesterday I was really envisaging a new onslaught, you know?"

"Do you ever shut up, Astrid?"

"If you give me your chocolate ration, you are blessed with my silence," I replied with a small smirk. My jestful proposition was rewarding though, as Archimedes had snapped off some of his chocolate and handed it to be. Never one to turn down any sweet food, I snatched it off him before he could say anything. But he didn't, we both continued walking on in a silence. Archimedes had grown to be my confidante - the Career alliance was just a facade, but the true foundation behind it were Archie and I. We'd remain loyal to each other, Luster and Melanthe were merely assets. I kind of liked that, it added a degree of stability. I glanced to my ally, noticing how much darker his fair hair looked when not bathed in light, whether solar or artificial. I remembered the contempt I had for him, which was now replaced with trust. If I were Melanthe or Luster I'd never trust the idiot, but me, as _Astrid _trusted him.

"So, what's the plan? We did say that we're..."

"An alliance in an alliance," replied Archie crisply, repeating the phrase that had gone around in my head. "I have some plans."

"Detailed plans?"

"No, not quite; intricate plans are quite dangerous because the more vague a plan is, the less potential disasters there are."

"Ah," I said, not quite getting what he was saying. "But you have a plan, right?"

"A brief plan - I see Luster and Melanthe as 'keys' into the final eight. Usually Careers all turn on each other before the final eight, but we'll turn on them beforehand if they haven't been killed already. For example, if we reach the final ten and both of them are still alive we'll slit their throat in their sleep. Or if, say, they're attacked by brain eating moles tonight and Melanthe only just escapes because of a twist of fate, we don't kill her until the final nine. Do you get the plan?"

The arithmetic hurt, but I managed to just get what he said. Still, I was a little spooked. How could Archimedes talk about killing people so casually? As a Career, the concept of killing someone is a lot cooler and easy than the reality. Killing someone was messy, horrible and it actually did fill you with guilt. And Archimedes had killed two people already, just killing the Three boy was enough to put me off it. I paused when I remembered that I hardly knew him, so how hard would it be to kill someone who I had danced with, someone who had told a joke to me... somebody who _trusted _me.

"And you won't turn on me?"

There was a warmer sincerity to my ally's voice. "No, I would not."

"Why?"

"Because I..." Archimedes paused, the words bitter on his tongue. "I like you. I think you're formidable and cool."

I was ready to laugh, not used to hearing my formal friend use 'cool' as an adjective before, but Archimedes' calculating mind somehow managed to process two things at once. He heard a vague sound in a distance I must have missed, and saw the warning signs of a laugh begin to reveal themselves on my features. Quickly but clumsily he flew at me and covered my mouth. I struggled a bit, first thinking of it as an attack and desperately trying to grab the hilt of a knife, but he whispered reassuringly in my ear -

"_Be quiet, I can hear someone._"

His hand quickly pulled away, and I trembled as adrenaline still pumped through my body. The noise I heard wasn't as subtle as I imagined; two people were conversing openly but freely, and the more interesting thing was that there was a sense of hostility in their corroboration.

"I told you Rayann, you should have left him a while ago!" It was a faux Capitol accent; someone trying to sound more formal and higher in status than what they actually were. And yet the geniune aspect of it was the scorning sterness of the tone. "You should have taken his supplies too. Now we're living off rabbits and berries!" Rayann... The victor. Archie and I exchanged a glance.

"I couldn't have done that to him," the tone that replied was filled with distaste.

"You're the victor. You should know that this thing is compulsory if you want to survive!"

"You play the game, but you play it fa-"

"There _is _no fair!"

"This is where you and I disagree, _mother,_" the last word was stressed with a hatred. Not quite a fresh hatred, not an open wound of spite, but an old wound that had warped itself into a scar. "We know that you're never fair."

"I only do this because I-"

"Care?" There was a snort of laughter. I almost grinned at how easy this was, the victor just giving herself away. "If you cared for me, you'd have visited me in the Justice Building when I was reaped... if you cared for me, you would be listening to me right now. If you cared for me-" there was a pause. Pathetic fallacy ensued with a solemn wind blowing, messing up my hair in a way that triggered my pseudo OCD. "If you'd have cared for me, I wouldn't have been taken in again. I fought for the people of District Five because I had nothing to fight for but them anymore, even my own family turned their backs. I realised that this government we're living in is as oppressing as being raised by you. You don't know how I feel, if you had an ounce of empathy you wouldn't have complained once that you were here, with your daughter. You're supposed to protect me, but it's me who is protecting you."

"I'm not fit for it," the reply wasn't harsh, but it was hushed. Probably because the woman who I had figured was Rayann's mother was unkeen with the concept of microphones picking up their private conversation. I, however, could still hear, and nothing made me happier than gossip. "I've never felt fit for you, Rayann. I still care, because I can't show it. Because the chances are we're going to die, you do know that right? And I'm going to die first, the Capitol will make sure of that. They want you to suffer. I want you to do these things because I'm not like them... I don't want you to suffer..."

Archimedes rolled his eyes at the sound of tears. Growing impatient of the dramatics, I withdrew two knifes and walked out of the shrubbery and onto the scene, putting on my career mask. Archimedes seemed alarmed at first, though he followed with a similar expression. I walked in on the two girls embracing; Rayann's friend was nowhere to be scene, probably out collecting berries or something.

"Aw, how sweet," I sneered. "Can I have a hug?"

Rayann glanced at us, alarm growing in her eyes. She held her arms out protectively over her mother, though it was futile seeing as the older woman was a good few inches taller than her daughter.

"Go," the victor told her mother.

"There's no point trying to help her," Archimedes said briskly. "Are you as egotistical as to think I'd lose my victor status for the sake of killing you and going home? The Gamemakers may have slapped a victim label on your forehead, but you're pretty safe from careers - _true careers, _the ones that want to be victors."

"But we do want a kill," I continued Archie's sentence. "Where is your Twelve friend?"

"He's gone," Rayann spat. "And you're not going to get him."

Rayann's mother shrieked as one of my blades flew over her shoulder, gliding through the flesh and leaving a clean cut. I had missed on purpose, of course, just to give Rayann a warning sign. As Archimedes implied, we weren't going to kill any of them, we couldn't afford to lose our victor status for that, but she was still worried for her mother's life. Rayann didn't hate her mother as much as she liked to think she did. Still... if I had just lowered my aim a few inches... I'd probably be going home now. I'd be safe and sound... and competition was so tough...

"Where is he?" Demanded Archimedes.

Rayann didn't look defeated, she merely smirked. "I don't know, but even if I did-"

Archimedes sighed. "For a victor and Capitol pariah, you are very generic, aren't you?"

There was a silence that followed as Archimedes' eyes roamed both women. "You're very scared, aren't you? You know the futility of my presence here. I haven't assured you I'm not going to kill you. I only kill when necessary, and you're both very irrelevant. You pose no threat to me. In fact, if you both got out of here alive I wouldn't care - as long as I got my victor title. You're a wise girl, Rayann, not making any allies. I'm going to kill every single tribute out there."

Rayann didn't reply, she only glared and allowed her chest to heave in relief when Archie and I turned, ready to wander back into the forest to hunt. There was a moment of silence as she observed us until she reached the perimeter, and then spoke out more outspokenly. "You do know Helen died because of you, right, Archimedes? How do you feel about that."

Archimedes cackled as we stepped back into the shadowy forest. "I'm absolutely privileged."

* * *

**Micah Miraude, District 8, 17:**

"I'm hungry," complained Violet. Now I knew why I didn't want children; for the past day Reed and I had kind of played mother and father, with Violet taking the role of the child. She was like a baby - all she did was cry for various reasons (take, for example, the emotional outburst she had this morning over her dead ally), eat, sleep and defacate, though the last one was fortunately something I didn't have to witness. And she didn't do it as often as a baby did, and fortunately she did take pride in her appearance too. The defacating bit wasn't much of a problem.

"We'll eat when we can eat," Reed snapped as I parked the car in a nice clearing. The afternoon was closing in and the sun began to sink underneath a canyon of clouds, but it was still bright outside. Worried that we were exposed, I kept my hands and feet ready to drive. Sure, enemies with swords and arrows were intimidating, but you can't slash and stab your way out of a rampaging car. I think we kind of all won in the weapons department. "If you would actually eat raisins you wouldn't be so hungry."

"But raisins are disgusting, and I doubt it - Micah ate _all _the raisins and his stomach still growls, it isn't fulfilling!"

"Did you hear that, Reed? Violet said a word that was over seven words, and in the right context too! Say it again, Violet, ful-fil-"

"Micah is still hungry because he's a boy," Reed said, her tone sounding as agitated as I felt.

"That's boyist!"

"Boyist? Do you mean sexist?" I added, as an afterthought.

"No, Percy told me sex feels really good!"

"Percy wouldn't be lying."

Reed glared at me, and then turned to give a scorning look to Violet. "Both of you are really annoying me. You seem to forget that we're in the H_unger _Games, so please excuse me if you're feeling _hunger_."

"I'm not feeling hunger Reed, I'm feeling hungry," said Violet. Had anyone else made such a remark I'd of admired their wit, but with Violet it was just unintentional stupidity. Still, it was quite amusing and I had to admit I smirked a little. Reed, noticing my expression, lashed out a little and slapped me on the arm. She didn't mean to hurt me, and I hate admitting it, but I did whelp a little when the feeling of her hand contacted flesh.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You know what the hell that was for," she barked back, collecting herself and turning to Violet. "Fine, I give in, you guys can go hunting while I stay here. I don't mind... I just don't want to be involved in the slaughtering."

Violet smiled triumphantly as she opened the door and hopped out. "Yay, thank you Reed!"

I tried to stop the concern from crossing my face as I glanced to my ally. There was something she was hiding, something she was not quite saying. Her eyes swept across mine, noticing that I was mentally psychoanalysing her. Not wanting to even acknowledge me mentally she glanced in a cracked rearview mirror, pretending to do her hair even though I knew she wasn't for two reasons: reason one was that she was the least vain person I knew. At times she could be as anally retentive and fussy as Violet, but generally appearance was not something she prided herself for. The second reason was that her unkempt hair was already ruly and untidy anyway, almost to the point where neither hand nor comb would fix it. So is the Hunger Games.

After a pause she spoke to kill the silence. "You're free to take my knives. They're somewhere in the back seat. Don't go for anything too ambitious. That's never wise, something like a rabbit - one that preferably doesn't kill."

"Thanks," I replied. remembering our first night in the arena. Before then there was no Violet. It was weird to think how drastically things changed in a matter of days. I turned and crawled into the backseat area of the car, searching through the supplies that littered the backseats and floors before I found Reed's knives. I was actually quite surprised with the amount she had collected, some at the bloodbath, some through sponsors. With that I grabbed most of them, but left one. "I'm leaving one just in case you have to defend yourself, okay? We're only going to be a few hours. It won't be long."

"I probably won't need it," she replied dismissively. "I'm in a car, I doubt much will be able to hurt me."

"Your call," I shrugged, leaving it there anyway and then sliding back into the front seat.

"And you know how to throw a knife properly?"

"Yes mother," I sighed, opening the car door before pausing. "Reed... are you sure you're okay?"

There was a silence as Reed processed my word. After an intake of breath she spoke out. "Sympathy doesn't suit you Micah."

"Seriously-" I moved in to touch my ally's shoulder, but she flinched. It wasn't as if she wanted to avoid the contact... I mean, she obviously did, but there was no disgust in her avoidance. I felt something similar to fear come off her, she was scared. Not terrified, but there was some kind of fear and hesitation in her.

"I... I'm just homesick, that's all," she forced a pain smile on her face, though it looked more like a grimace. "I'll be okay. I promise"

"Micah, hurry!" Violet's voice boomed in the background impatiently.

"You better listen to her, before she attracts unwanted attention," Reed sighed. Before I left the car she did stop me, looking at me for a second. There was still that hesitation, a hesitation I'm not used to with women, but then there was a sincerity behind it. "It's nice to know that you care Micah. If it helps, I care too... so be careful."

"Careful is my middle name," I laughed nonchalantly, crossing my fingers behind my back before departing.

* * *

**2 months since updating.**

**The influx of late reviews must be aggravating, but I've been drowning in an ocean of exams that probably determine how the rest of my life is going to end up, and I'm never going to really shake them until summer. I want to apologise, and I want to promise there'll be no more late updates but I don't want to make broken promises because of the reason said before and whenever I do write I tend to focus it on Blood to Blood, mainly because it's a collaboration and I'd feel selfish letting someone else down.**

**What I can promise is that I'm not giving up on this story, so don't give up on it too.**

**This chapter was fun to write, but I'm more excited for day seven. There's a lot planned for that day, so keep your eyes peeled :)**

_**~Toxic**_

_No questions this chapter, mainly because I'm struggling to think of them, but if you want something to do you can feel free to PM me. Mainly because I feel so behind on fanfiction, so if anyone wants to chat feel free. For those whose stories I read, I'll catch up + review ASAP! I promise!_


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